Saving Sharkey

by Felicity Nisbet

  And so I had ended up at one of the local pubs. Along with the Shannon brothers who were already drunk.

  It was loud. Pubs were always loud. At least successful pubs were. It wasn’t what I liked about them, I found as I got older. Nor was it the scent of stale beer or the alcohol that was sweating through the pores of over-exuberant indulgers. Sometimes it was the music, particularly Celtic tunes or, I would admit only to myself, the Dixieland jazz of Charlie’s Covenant Stompers. And the décor of mirrors laden with beer insignias and the old fading scenic paintings of the Scottish and Irish countryside and even the English. Or the paintings of the royals, Bonnie Prince Charlie in particular. The dart boards added to the effect. But in truth, it was the ambiance that made me long for my home land.

  And the people, I suppose, and why they gathered in a pub. It wasn’t like a bar where it was awkward to strike up conversations with strangers without an ulterior motive. Everyone was welcome in the establishment and in a conversation. That must have explained why it attracted such a variety of faces and personalities. The lonely, when the television no longer provided entertainment or solace; the depressed, when they were able to arouse themselves from their couch and put one foot in front of the other; those who sought entertainment, company, conversation, or camaraderie. More likely than not, I myself had been there for all those reasons over the years.

  I stopped in the doorway, seriously considering leaving without a pint. But Dougal, I think it was, had turned and eyed me at that moment. He raised his glass to me. Liam followed suit.

  Maybe it would be okay. Maybe Aileen had not painted a dark picture of Sharkey. Maybe she had convinced her brothers that she had, without provocation, dumped him. Maybe they didn’t have it in for Sharkey now that his sister was no longer living with him. And maybe the sky is yellow and the sun is blue.

  “Hello, lads,” I said, patting them on the back and moving along down the bar as if I had some friends waiting for me. There was a young professor from the University I recognized. I could do with a wee bit of pedantic conversation right now.

  “Don’t we know you?” Liam stumbled off his barstool to block my way.

  “Aye, we met a while back.” I did not specify that it had been at O’Connell’s which might well trigger their memories to recall that Sharkey had been the one to introduce us.

  Dougal eyed me cautiously. “A football player, aren’t ye?”

  “Aye.”

  “Not on our team, are you now?” Liam squinted his eyes at me. As he struggled to keep his balance, his beer sloshed over the edge of the glass and onto his shoes.

  “Not on your team.”

  Dougal’s eyes narrowed. “You’re a friend of that fockin’ Sharkey’s, aren’t you?”

  “I am,” I said, taking a wee step backwards. “Good to see you.” I stepped around Liam and continued down the bar.

  “Well, you tell that fockin’ bastard we’re gonna kick his arse from here to Donegal!” Apparently Aileen and her brothers had learned English at the same school.

  “I shall relay the message,” I assured him.

  This time it was Dougal who slid off his barstool, landing directly in front of me.

  “You do that.” He poked me in the chest, a gesture I did not find particularly endearing. In fact, if anything could, that was certain to provoke my temper. Not only was it annoying, but it had a condescending tone to it.

  “Excuse me,” I said politely, stepping around Shannon Two.

  Liam stumbled after me. “That bastard doesn’t know his arse from his elbow! The auld man was screwing around on our sister, he was! He’ll have us to answer to before this is over, that’s what I say. You tell him that!”

  “I’ll tell him,” I said as I walked off, leaving them in their drunken state. I was surprised Sharkey had put up with them as long as he had. He was definitely better off with Sarai than Aileen, I decided. Docile and sweet compared to aggressive and hostile with two drunken brothers? No contest. The only question was, was theirs a threat that we needed to take seriously.

  * * *

  “I’m afraid we’ll have to postpone that boat trip a wee bit longer,” Sharkey told Charlie and me after soccer practice. “I’m off to Canada to bid a job.”

  “How long will you be gone?”

  “Only a couple of days.”

  “Do you want us to keep an eye on Sarai again?” I asked.

  “You could, but her brother arrived from Thailand this morning. He’ll be staying with her. He works for a shipping line. When he found out they would be coming into Seattle, he came along. It appears he’ll be here for a couple weeks while the ship continues south and then returns to Seattle.”

  “A vacation then?” I said.

  “Or a foot in the door,” Charlie said.

  Sharkey raised an eyebrow. “That may very well be the reason. Why don’t you lads come around for a pint and meet him and see what your impression is.”

  “We’ll do that,” Charlie volunteered for both of us.

  We followed Sharkey home and pulled into his driveway behind the Lincoln Navigator. The door had been left open and we could see the entry. Sarai was in Sharkey’s arms, giving him a greeting kiss. Charlie put his hand out to stop me from interrupting.

  “Do you never stop spying?” I whispered.

  “I just want to get a feel for their relationship. I doubt she will be open and relaxed about her affection for him in front of an audience.”

  “I agree,” I said, staring straight ahead despite feeling like a voyeur. The kiss had turned into more than a greeting, and I wondered if Sharkey regretted leaving the door open and inviting us for a pint.

  Headlights flickered when a car pulled into the driveway directly behind Charlie’s Bentley. Blinded by the headlights, we both put our hands up to shield our eyes.

  “The son,” Charlie said as Declan climbed out of the driver’s side of the car.

  “And the daughter-in-law,” I said, as Susan opened the passenger door.

  Brief greetings were exchanged, as their eyes were not on us, but rather were looking in the same direction Charlie and I had been. Declan’s sigh of disgust indicated his feelings on the subject. Susan was quiet as she stood at her husband’s side, holding his hand as if in an effort to calm him down.

  “Excuse me,” Declan said, shaking off his wife’s hand and walking past us toward the house.

  “No wonder Aileen is fit to be tied,” Susan murmured under her breath.

  “You know about that?” Charlie asked.

  Susan nodded as her eyes remained fixed on her husband. “According to Maureen, she has vengeance on her mind. I wouldn’t be surprised if she threw something a lot worse than plants at him.”

  At the sound of Declan’s, “Dad!” we all jolted to attention.

  Sharkey released Sarai who scrambled toward the kitchen. “Declan, what are you doing here? Come in, lads,” he said to us. “Susan.”

  “Come on, Dad,” Declan said as though he were alone with his father. “Give me a break. Now Sarai?”

  “What? You object to my having a woman in my life? Or is it because she’s my housekeeper?”

  “You know better than that!” Declan clearly took offense at that insinuation.

  “Declan,” Susan cautioned. “Now isn’t the time—”

  “When is the time?” Declan flashed his wife an angry look that was in truth meant for his father. “You know these women are just after your money!” So, this time it was Declan playing his father’s protector—or his father’s money’s protector.

  “I assure you, Declan. Sarai is not after my money. What do you suggest? That I stay celibate to protect my money from women?”

  “Find a rich woman so you know your money is safe?”

  “So it can all go to you and your sister, you mean?”

  Silenced momentarily by his father’s words, Declan looked away. When he looked back, his voice had softened. “You know that’s not true, Dad. We just worry about you,
that’s all. You seem to attract the . . . wrong women.”

  “What are you even doing here?” Sharkey asked.

  “I had to see for myself.”

  “Ah, so Maureen found out.”

  “She and Andy ran into Aileen at the pub tonight. They heard about her departure in great detail. And her suspicions about you and Sarai.”

  They actually had a civil conversation? Easier now that they weren’t in competition for Sharkey’s money.

  “And she immediately called you to check up on me to see if the story was true,” Sharkey said.

  Declan was silent.

  “I’m surprised she didn’t come herself.”

  Again silence. Then, “She had no trouble believing it. I, on the other hand, had to see it to believe it.”

  “Declan, I think we should go.” Susan reached for his hand. “I’m sorry, Eddie.”

  “Not your fault, Susan,” Sharkey said, leaning down to kiss her on the cheek.

  She tugged on Declan’s hand but he stood stubbornly frozen in place.

  “Tell your sister everything is under control. She doesn’t need to worry about me. And neither do you.”

  Declan nodded. He accepted the hug his father gave him. “Just promise me you’ll be careful.”

  “I’m always careful.”

  After Declan and Susan left, Charlie and I followed Sharkey into his favorite room, the bar room. Sarai appeared with a tray of cheeses and french bread. She gave us both shy smiles, said a quiet hello, and a thank you when we so very courteously accepted the plates she handed us.

  “You can stay if you’d like, Sarai,” Sharkey said, walking around the bar to draw us each a glass of beer.

  She shook her head. “That is okay.”

  “Is Mok here?” Sharkey asked.

  “Yes, but he sleeping. Very tired from long journey.”

  “Ah, well, that’s a shame. I thought he might enjoy meeting my friends.”

  Sarai forced a smile. “That is much kind, Eddie.”

  “Another time,” he said, handing Charlie and me each a Belhaven as his new lady love left the room.

  “Any more threats?” Charlie asked.

  Sharkey cringed. “Och, you’re not going to bring that up now, are you? I told you it was nothing. Surely you must have both received some form of a threat over the years? You being a private investigator, Charlie, and you from students who are unhappy with their grades, Malcolm?”

  Charlie shook his head. “You’d think so, but I never have. You, Malcolm?”

  “Mine come more in the form of bribery. From young ladies, seeking better grades.”

  “You never had any of these threats investigated?” Charlie was not going to let this one go. I trusted he had good reason.

  Sharkey shrugged. “Never took them seriously.”

  Charlie raised his head, forcing the other man to make eye contact. “You’re telling me that your life has been threatened more than once and you never took it seriously?”

  Sharkey grimaced. “I just figured it was some angry ex or a jealous husband. Nothing ever came of any of them.”

  “May I have a look?”

  Sharkey groaned but did not misjudge the look in the stubborn detective’s eyes. We set down our beers and followed him into his office where he withdrew them from a file drawer.

  Charlie snatched the papers from his hand, took them over to the drawing board, turned on the lamp and studied them. I stood at his side, watching him in action as he sorted, pushed them around a bit, turned them over to check dates Sharkey had written on the backs of the letters, and groaned.

  “What do you think?” Sharkey asked when Charlie once again raised his head. “Harmless, right?”

  Charlie shook his head. “I would never assume that.” He pushed aside the two older letters of the bunch. “You never know what causes a threat to lay dormant for several years and then suddenly to be revived by a trigger. But I must say I am more concerned about these newer ones, especially since one came on the heels of the other. And not that long ago.”

  “It’s been months!”

  “One was sent one month ago and the other six weeks ago to be precise,” Charlie commented.

  “But they’re totally different,” Sharkey said.

  “That doesn’t mean they’re not sent from the same person.” He requested a plastic bag which Sharkey collected from the kitchen, and we watched Charlie carefully put all four letters inside it. “I’ll get these to the lab right away.”

  Sharkey put his hand out to stop him before Charlie could tuck them into his pocket. “It’s really not necessary, Charlie. I’m not even a wee bit worried about them.”

  “I’m doing it anyway,” Charlie said firmly.

  Sharkey’s look was just as hard as Charlie’s. “If you want to help me, I’d much prefer you spend your energy on making certain Sarai is safe. Keep an eye on her, not me.”

  “We can do both,” Charlie said, shoving the plastic bag inside his pocket. When he’d finished, he looked up at Sharkey. “Any others?”

  “Only from angry ex-girlfriends and ex-wives. But the difference is, they owned up to those and signed their names.”

  “But the fact that they wrote them still makes you uneasy,” Charlie said.

  “Now why would you say that?”

  “Because it’s the reason you’re concerned that Aileen will do something to harm you via Sarai.”

  Sharkey’s sigh was admission enough. “They’re more an annoyance than anything else.”

  Charlie stared silently, a single eyebrow raised. I knew the posture well. Charlie did not tolerate bullshit.

  Sharkey still pushed it. “But these are most likely from jealous husbands.”

  “That doesn’t diminish the severity of them. And they are not necessarily from men,” Charlie said. “Every one of them could be from a woman who was tossed aside or who is jealous because she’s caught you flirting with another woman.”

  Sharkey did not argue with that theory.

  “Excuse me, Eddie,” a soft voice interrupted us as we were making our way back to our beer.

  “Yes, Sarai?”

  “You ask for Mok,” she said.

  “I awake,” a man said as he entered the room. “I have excellent nap and feel much good now.”

  Sarai’s smile was cautious. “You are sure?”

  He smiled and reached out to put his arm around Sarai’s waist. “My sister always look after me.”

  As if uncomfortable with the gesture, Sarai stepped out of his embrace and went to the kitchen, returning a moment later with another plate. I glanced at Charlie who also seemed to have noticed. Either Sarai was uncomfortable with displays of affection even between siblings, or he was not her favorite brother.

  “Mok, I’d like you to meet my friends Malcolm MacGregor and Charlie McNair. This is Mok, Sarai’s brother.”

  We shook hands and exchanged greetings. He had a slightly larger frame and broader build than the Thai soccer players we had played against the week before and his muscles were accentuated by his light cotton shirt and slacks.

  “Will you be staying in America for a couple weeks then?” Charlie asked.

  “Would like more. I come visit sister but think I like it here. Finding way to stay no easy.”

  “No, unfortunately it’s difficult unless you are independently wealthy or can provide jobs through a business.”

  “Neither I am,” Mok said in his accent that was only slightly thicker than Sarai’s. “I would have—need—work to stay.”

  “What kind of work can you do?” Charlie asked.

  He flashed Sarai a look and smiled. “Work hard for ship company. I do much. I am skilled at much.”

  “At?” Charlie asked.

  “Run office. Making things too. With the wood. Or the gardens. I am good at making the gardens. And people also.”

  “Making people?” Sharkey asked.

  Mok’s smile was self-conscious as he realized his choice of
words was not correct. “I am good at manage people.”

  “Ah,” Sharkey said. “You are good at managing people. Being the boss, in other words.”

  Mok grinned. “Yes, that is what I say. Good at being boss.”

  “Your English is excellent,” I said. “Is this your first time in America?”

  “Yes, once before I am here. On other coast. Many years from now. But I speak the English much. Like Sarai. Only she speak better than me.”

  Sarai looked at him. “You are too modest,” she said and I realized how little she had contributed to this conversation. Habit, I supposed, or culture?

  “No, you are here longer now and speak good language. But is true we both like speak English as growing up”—he stopped to catch his breath or perhaps translate his words—“so we can one day come and maybe to stay. But this trip I not think so. This trip I must go home.”

  “Unless you find a woman to marry,” Sharkey offered. “The one way to stay in the country.” I was suddenly hit with the sense that if push came to shove, he would reverse his conviction and marry Sarai if it meant keeping her in the country. This was not a brand new relationship. These feelings he had for her had been developing over time. He may not have acted on them, but they were there.

  Mok’s dark eyes lit up. “Yes, to marry. I like idea. Do you know woman who look for husband? Who look for me?”

  We all laughed and accepted the second round of drinks—this time Guinness.

  “Mok? Something to drink?” he offered.

  Mok shook his head. “Thank you. No. I am most good.” He said something to Sarai in Thai and she immediately left for the kitchen and he excused himself to follow.

  “He seems like a nice enough fellow, doesn’t he?” Sharkey said.

  “I did like his honesty about wanting to stay in America,” Charlie said. “What about you, Malcolm? What did you think?”

  “He seems pleasant enough. I must say I’m surprised by how good his English is. And Sarai’s for that matter.”