One Fool At Least (The Madeline Mann Mysteries)

by Julia Buckley

  “Yes, sir, I understand,” I said with my most brilliant smile. All I saw was my own reflection in his shades, my foot propped up on a chair and my teeth looking unusually large and predatory.

  We watched them go. Jack had his back to me as he viewed the car’s departure, and I realized that I was in trouble. As usual, my husband was trying to frame his words carefully. I’ve come to know this as Jack’s pre-assault mode.

  “Maddy—” he began, turning slowly, his eyes on the floor.

  Again I was saved by the doorbell.

  Jack opened the door to reveal Molly and Slider, who had been discussing a show on MTV, but switched to the tale of what had just occurred up at the house. They entered with much bluster and emotion, decrying the unfair police and wondering at the curious Mr. Wilde. “I don’t even know how he knew or why he showed up,” Slider began, watching Molly as she flounced into a chair and helped herself to a piece of bacon.

  “Jack and I think he might fear Ardmore was involved,” I said.

  Slider thought about that. “Ardmore was there, too. With his dad. They were actually really cool to me. Ardmore said that in a way we were like brothers, since we both had the same brother. I thought that was a great thing to say.”

  “So you told them the truth? That you knew nothing about what happened?” Jack asked.

  “Yup. And they seemed sort of relieved, so maybe you’re right. Anyway, then when Chief Hendricks showed up and started saying that it was really convenient that I disappeared right after a murder, they stood up for me. Ardmore said he would act as my lawyer until I got my own, if it came to that.”

  “How can Ardmore act as your lawyer?”

  “Oh, he is a lawyer, Maddy,” Molly put in. “He just has to take the bar. He was about to take it months ago, and then he and his dad got into a fight, and he got the pizza job. He doesn’t let people push him around much.”

  “No,” I said.

  “Anyway. The cops said they’d be investigating my story to see if it panned out, whatever that means.”

  “It means they had nothing to hold you on, so they had to leave,” Jack said wryly.

  “Yeah, well.” Slider sat down next to Molly and took her bacon-free hand in his. They looked ready to stay all day.

  “What about the notebook? Any help?” I queried.

  They looked mournfully at each other, and then at us. “Not that we can see. Maybe you’d like to look through it. It’s mostly just him jotting down ideas for the bar, some phone numbers here and there, even some poems that he wrote. There’s a girl’s name that appears a lot—Stacy or something—and she’s in lots of the poetry. You’d think he was the teenager,” Slider said with a grin.

  “At one point he mentions Mom,” Molly said. “But it just says ‘talk to Libby Shea.’ ”

  “But that refers to the time right before he died. Do you have it with you? What else does it say on that page?”

  Slider slipped the notebook out of his pocket and flipped through it. “Here it is,” he said, handing it to me.

  I skimmed the page, noting the reference to Libby. He’d put a little smiley face by her name, which I found disturbing. He’d also written some things about possible cheaper insurance for the restaurant, a few phone numbers of insurance companies, and then, on a line of its own, one cryptic question: Family: Who meets the requirement?

  I showed it to Slider. “What does he mean by this?”

  Slider shrugged. “I’m not sure. I know he’d been kind of thinking a lot about how his real brother—brothers, I guess, me and Ardmore—were more his relatives than his adopted ones. In a lot of ways blood was really important to Finn. For some adopted people, it’s not a big deal. Check out what he wrote on the next page.”

  It was a poem, not very well written, about parents as the cause of every person’s suffering, and the general unpleasantness of the world.

  “Slider,” I asked thoughtfully, “Finn never spoke to you about suicide, did he?”

  Slider shook his head. “Nah. He liked life, he liked people. And he felt like he was starting life over, with his new family. Not that he was neglecting the old one. He had just invited Colleen to work in the restaurant, and he kept in touch with Aidan.”

  Jack leaned on the kitchen island. “Has anyone called you about Finn’s will? Ardmore says you’re a beneficiary.”

  Slider’s brows went up, and he and Molly exchanged a glance. “A lawyer left a message for me this morning, while the police were there. Maybe that’s what it’s about. I think it was Finn’s lawyer, a guy named Carmichael.”

  “If you are a beneficiary, perhaps of a large amount of money, it could put you in danger,” I said. “We don’t know who we’re dealing with here, but with all these family connections and all that money at stake, it seems a good bet that money is the motive here.”

  “So meet with him here, or in a very public place. Make sure Pat or one of us is with you, okay?”

  Slider looked touched at Jack’s concern, almost flattered. “Yeah, okay. Now I have to go see my dad. I told him I would, last night, so—”

  His expression suggested he’d been ordered to walk through a pit of annoyed rattlesnakes.

  “I’ll go with you,” Molly said. “I’ll go on all your errands with you.”

  “Take an adult, too,” Jack said. “Do you need me to go?”

  Slider grinned. “No, but thanks, Jack. I think Pat or Libby will do it. You guys have been great. Really great. I appreciate—”

  “We’re glad you’re home,” I said. “Do you want this notebook back, or can we look through it?”

  “You can keep it. I don’t think it has anything useful, but you can decide.”

  The two of them took their leave, hand in hand, comfortable with each other in the way that even newlyweds sometimes aren’t. I stole a glance at Jack, waiting to hear chastise me about forgiving Jim and Randy.

  He surprised me. “How’s your foot today?” he asked.

  “Not bad. I took my pill, so I don’t feel much.”

  “How about if we get started on our sightseeing? There’s plenty of local stuff we can look at in the next couple of days, and then we could try venturing farther afield. We can see a lot just from the car, and here and there we can get out and wander a little.”

  I felt a burst of love for him. “Jack.”

  He sat down across from me and looked into my eyes. His were blue, the same blue as those mountains were, in certain moods. “Yes, Madeline.”

  “I’m not trying to make you miserable. I’m not trying to be crazy. I just don’t feel right about it, that’s all, prosecuting those old men. Haven’t you ever had trouble doing something because it didn’t feel right?”

  “Sure.” He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

  “What was it?”

  He smiled, maybe at his memories. “Remember that big fight we had, back in the fall? You flew off the handle because I opened that letter? I mean, you were screaming at me. And I thought, when you marched out, Maybe this is a sign. Maybe I should just let this go.”

  I had never heard this before. I know I’d considered leaving Jack, but it was somehow horrifying to contemplate the idea that he had considered leaving me. “You did?”

  He nodded. “For an hour or so. I was mad. But it just didn’t feel right in my gut. I knew I wanted you, and I was determined to have you, no matter how crazy you were.”

  He grinned to show that he was kidding.

  “I just feel this in my gut. I can’t send those two old geezers to prison, Jack.”

  “I know,” he said. “I think I knew you would feel that way, but I just—they took you away from me, Madeline. On the first day of our honeymoon they made me think that I might never see my wife again.”

  I got up and hopped on one foot until I reached his lap, and then I sat down and slid my arms around him. “It feels so nice to be your wife,” I said. “And despite what they did, we are going to have very happy memories of our ho
neymoon.”

  He kissed me: a long, luxurious kiss that made me realize why I’d married this man and no other. “Let’s lie down,” I said.

  He laughed. “On the kitchen floor?”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  “You’re insatiable, Mrs. Shea.”

  “Yup.”

  “What about our sight-seeing?”

  “First I’ll climb Mount Jack. Then we’ll deal with the Cat’s Teeth,” I assured him.

  He was laughing when I kissed him again, but we never made it to the floor (which didn’t look that comfortable anyway), because there was yet another knock at the door.

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake,” I said to Jack’s neck, which I had been investigating with my tongue.

  “Grand Central Station,” Jack agreed. “Remember where your mouth was,” he mumbled before yelling, “Come IN!”

  The door opened and Libby peeked through, looking repentant. “Sorry, guys. I know this is your private time and everyone’s been bugging you. I’m taking the kids to town, so I thought I’d find out if you need anything.”

  Jack and I looked at each other, both of us running through a quick mental checklist. “Maybe some coffee,” Jack said.

  “Sure,” Libby told him. “I might have some more at the house, but I’ll stock up.”

  I was going to ask for chocolate, but it seemed somehow rude to ask Libby to get it, so instead I said, “You’re taking the kids? Doesn’t Pat want to come with you?”

  Libby nodded. “But he’s dealing with Wilde and the police and Slider’s dad, and he’s got his hands full. We’ll be in my car with the doors locked, or we’ll be in public buildings with other people around. We just have to see Slider’s financial advisor and his lawyer, and I’m getting a couple groceries, and I want to talk to Colleen Kirk. And I have my cell phone,” she said brightly.

  Jack pushed me gently off of his lap and stood up. “Libby, let me go with you,” he said.

  “Absolutely not.” Libby thrust out her chin. “We will not take one more moment away from your honeymoon. Gosh, even Pat and I got a better honeymoon than this, even though we were eighteen and broke.”

  Jack smiled. “As I recall, you guys came back from California with giant grins that lasted until the following summer.”

  “Sometimes we still grin that way,” Libby said, perhaps to encourage us. “See you soon.”

  We watched them drive away, Libby moving at a sedate mom speed in her green SUV. Then Jack turned to me. “Listen, if you’re willing to do the sight-seeing, I need to get a few things for the drive.”

  “Okay, I’ll get my purse,” I said.

  Jack hesitated. “The thing is—I need to get it at Bruder Brothers. I mean Wilde Emporium, I guess it is now. They have the best selection of hiking stuff, and they’re the closest.”

  “Well, it doesn’t matter; Jim and Randy don’t work there anymore, right?”

  “I think they might still, sometimes. I just don’t know if you feel like—?” And suddenly I didn’t. I might not feel all that willing to press charges against Jim and Randy, but I certainly didn’t need to see them ever again.

  “Um—you know what? If you’re giving me a choice here, I think I’ll stay home. I want to call my family, anyway.”

  “Yeah, you do that. Are you going to tell them?” he asked, smoothing my hair.

  “Hmm. Not my mom, definitely. I’ll play it by ear with the brothers.”

  “Okay.” Jack kissed me. “I’m going to tell Pat to keep an eye on you. Meanwhile, door locked, phone at the ready, and no wandering off.”

  “No, sir. I’m a boring old married lady now,” I joked.

  Jack looked uncertain. “Well, you’re one of those three.”

  He left a bit reluctantly, and I settled into a living room chair and dialed my mother and father’s house. My mom answered on the second ring.

  “Madeline?” she asked in lieu of a hello.

  “Hi, Muti. Shouldn’t you be at work?”

  “Oh, I am just here briefly to pick up some papers for the Mayor. I forgot them. I’ve been a little distracted, wondering why you didn’t call….”

  “Sorry, Mom. Things here have been—hectic. Really crazy, actually.”

  “The plane ride was all right?” she asked. My mother knew all about my fear.

  “It was not too bad. Except at the end. I sort of ruined things, I guess.” I told her about falling off the plane, the doctor, the crutches. I left out the part about the kidnapping.

  “Oh, Sweetheart!” my mother said. “You poor thing! You can’t blame yourself for that. It’s not as though you threw yourself down the stairs. And Jack loves you no matter what. Do you know that when your father and I were on our honeymoon he took me on a little lake cruise, on a sightseeing boat? They served a meal, gave us a tour—it should have been lovely. But I was seasick the entire time, and I looked green and horrible. And all the while your father kept telling me how beautiful I was.”

  “That’s sweet, Mom.”

  “The point is that Jack sees you that way. Perhaps more so, now that you need his help. Men like frailty sometimes.”

  “I guess. I just—I wish it could have gone the way Jack dreamed it.”

  My mother sighed. “Sweetie, so little of your life will go the way you dream it. But if you embrace what comes, you’ll be happy.”

  “You sound like one of those motivational calendars,” I said lightly. “But you’re right, I know. Anyway, I think I’m going to lie down and rest my foot before Jack gets back and we bundle into the car.”

  “I love you, Madeline.”

  “I love you, too, Muti. Give Dad a kiss.”

  “All right,” my mother said cheerfully.

  I hung up the phone and lay down on the plump cushions of Libby and Pat’s couch. I half closed my eyes and stretched, catlike, enjoying the silence and my torpor.

  And then I sat up. Libby’s last words were suddenly floating in my head. Something about them, something wrong… and now Jack was gone.

  I felt on the verge of a headache. I was in a troubled mood but I couldn’t discern why, and I wished that my leg were better so that I could pace around. Then it clicked in, and it wasn’t that bad after all. Libby had said she wanted to see Colleen Kirk. I didn’t know who that was. But that was easily solved. I called Pat.

  “Hello?”

  “Pat—it’s Madeline. Listen, I was just thinking about something Libby said, and I was wondering—who’s Colleen Kirk?”

  “Colleen? Well, I think you met her, didn’t you? She runs the restaurant. Finn’s place.”

  “I thought her name was Colleen Flanagan.”

  “Her maiden name. She’s married to a young accountant in town named David Kirk. He works—”

  “Oh, you know what? I met him, too. I just didn’t realize they were married. He never mentioned it.” I could hear someone speaking to Pat in the background, so I said a hasty goodbye and clicked off.

  David Kirk. He was Slider’s financial advisor. So he would know all about Slider’s insurance policy, and perhaps, depending what Slider had confided, about brother Finn and brother Ardmore. David Kirk was yet another kind of brother—a brother-in-law. What was it Libby had said Finn had mumbled into the telephone? I suppose that makes you family, but it doesn’t make you a friend. David Kirk was married to Finn’s sister by adoption. That could explain the tenuous “I suppose that makes you family.” Even Colleen was not a blood relative to Finn. And perhaps Finn had come to think that a blood relative was more important, which would have explained his new closeness with young Slider.

  But what about “it doesn’t make you a friend?” If it had been David Kirk on the phone, what had he said to Finn? Wouldn’t Finn’s comment have created some conflict? Could they have fought about it later? Struggled? Could David Kirk have shot Finn Flanagan?

  It was a brand new piece of information, Kirk’s marital connection, and millions of questions danced around in my head, making me restless. It could
mean nothing at all. After all, David Kirk had seemed like a pleasant and friendly young man. Just because he knew that his wealthy brother-in-law had a new brother, and therefore competition for a financial legacy, that didn’t make him a killer. And yet it would give him a motive that perhaps even Aidan and Colleen didn’t have, since they might not even know what David knew.

  I thought back to Colleen in the restaurant, her genuine distress at the attack on Ardmore, and her panicked phone call to her husband. To David Kirk. And he hadn’t been there. She had called his office, and he wasn’t there. In the middle of the day. Someone had shot Ardmore moments before.

  Now I was pacing, with my crutches back under me. This was troublesome, very troublesome. Libby had said that David Kirk was one of the people they were going to see.

  I was back on the phone, this time dialing Jack. “Hello?” he asked.

  “Jack. Where are you? How close are you to home?”

  “I’m just at the register. They’re ringing me up.” Then, more quietly, “Is someone horny?”

  “No, no. At least not right now. I’m worried. I need a ride into town. I need to get into town and check on Libby and the kids.”

  Jack’s voice changed. “What happened?”

  “David Kirk is married to Finn’s sister. Did you know that?”

  “No—o,” Jack said slowly. “You think this gives Kirk a motive? Knowing the money situation?”

  “Do you?”

  “Listen, I can’t get back there in less than twenty minutes, and then town is another fifteen. You’d better get Pat.”

  “Okay. I’ll call you later.”

  I hung up and re-dialed Pat. “Hello?”

  “Pat, I need to get to town. I need you to take me now, to check on Libby and the kids.”

  “What’s going on?” he asked, his voice alert.

  “I’ll tell you in the car. Are the cops still there?”

  “No, just Angelo. I’ll send him on his way and then come get you.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Pat was in front of the guest house five minutes later, his engine running. On the way to town I explained my problem with the new information. He nodded, his expression bemused. “I see what you’re saying. I guess maybe as outsiders you and Jack have a little more distance from this, can look at it more clinically. I mean, I know all these people.”