“Make yourselves at home. I’ll tell Declan you’re here. He’s just getting ready to leave for work. He works nights, of course.”
Of course. Being a bartender, that was probable. It did cross my mind how they maintained a relationship when they were but ships passing in the night. Or perhaps that was the solution. If Andy and Maureen saw less of each other, they might be kinder to each other, although they did appear to be on gentler terms today. He had not snatched her drink from her and he had affectionately put his arm around her waist. Of course, there were no other women present to distract him.
We walked around the living room which was half the size of the Curries’, but with as grand a lake view as I’d ever seen. Not only had the house been built with no obstructions, but once inside, there was nothing else in its view but lake and trees. It was altogether possible that this property was of equal value to the more ostentatious home of the Curries.
It was its rustic nature that surprised me, with the beamed ceilings and wood-paneled walls. It did not suit Susan as well as Declan, I thought, quickly deciding that she had not owned it before they married. It had wide plank pine floors that Jenny would love. Plus the fact that this house was much better suited to dogs. It was a shame that Susan despised them as Maureen had told us. Or maybe it was just that dog in particular, being ugly and abandoned and left to roam the streets of Seattle.
“Gentlemen,” Declan greeted us in a far dressier outfit than we’d seen him in, indicating that the restaurant where he tended bar was indeed upscale. Despite the elegant attire, the lad with the green eyes and dimples to match his sister’s still had the appearance of someone younger than his age of twenty seven.
Susan appeared a moment later with a tray bearing three cups of coffee, cream, and sugar which neither Charlie nor I took. She set it down on the coffee table and motioned for us to join her which we obediently did.
“Malcolm and Charlie are considering purchasing some property out this way. Your dad told them to stop in and say hello.”
“I hope we’re not inconveniencing you,” Charlie said, his eyes focused on Declan. “He was adamant that we should stop by.”
“Of course. I just wish I didn’t have to leave for work so soon.” He glanced at his watch and decided that he had time to join us and sat beside his wife on the beige loveseat that matched the couch.
Silence on the subject of Eddie. Interesting. How was Charlie going to prompt him into a revealing dialog? Watch and learn, I thought.
Sure enough, he did not disappoint me. “Your father told us you had a grand view of the lake. He was not exaggerating.”
Declan smiled, a hint of pride in his eyes. “Did he?”
“Oh, aye. He said it was lovely.” Charlie paused, waiting for him to comment on his father or at least ask something pertaining to when we had last seen him. When that didn’t happen, Charlie took a sip of his coffee and stood to get a better view of the lake.
“Have you owned your home long?” I asked, filling the silence with which Charlie was far more comfortable.
“A year and a half. We bought it when we got married,” Declan said, confirming that Susan had not owned it prior to their marriage.
“And has it gone up in value, do you think?” I asked.
They glanced at each other and smiled. “Definitely. We’ve done well. This view is hard to match,” Susan said.
“Exactly.” Declan patted his wife’s knee affectionately. “Houses can be remodeled or rebuilt for that matter, but you can’t import a view.”
“Very true,” I agreed, watching Charlie as he turned from the window to the young couple.
“Did you consider having your father design a house for you?” he asked.
Declan laughed. “I don’t think we could afford his services.” Then added, “No, actually we did consider it, but we couldn’t find any vacant land with this view. And we loved this house so it was an easy decision.”
Susan’s frown contradicted that assessment. Either she did not love this house as much as her husband did, or the decision had not been an easy one.
Charlie had not succeeded as well here, I decided. Declan had not once asked after his father or taken Charlie’s bait to discuss him.
“Well, we certainly didn’t learn as much there, did we?” I said when we were settled back in the Bentley.
“On the contrary. We learned a great deal,” Charlie said.
“Did we now?”
“Oh, aye. We learned that Maureen is closer to her dad than her brother is, and that she visits him and speaks with him more frequently.”
“That does seem apparent. But is it helpful? Did we learn anything else?”
“You mean, aside from the fact that Declan does not even seem to be aware that there’s a strong possibility his father has disappeared?”
“Aye, aside from that.”
“For one, we learned that Maureen did not find our visit odd or surprising enough to warn her brother that we were most likely on our way to his house. And,” he continued, “We learned that Maureen and Declan got married within months of each other.”
“I too found that interesting.”
“And that the siblings are as close as they seem. Otherwise, why would they live only a mile from each other?”
“True, Charlie, but if that’s the case, why has Maureen not discussed their father’s absence with her brother?”
“Most likely she has.”
“But—?”
“But he has not taken it seriously. If Maureen has been pestering him about the disappearance of Eddie, he most likely has discounted her reaction as her typical hysteria or rationalized his father’s disappearance as being quite simply the way he is.”
“Which is actually possible.”
“Absolutely.”
“So, if this is simply just Eddie being Eddie on one of his adventures, why are we going to all this trouble to discover where he is and why he has not communicated with anyone?”
Charlie pulled up to a stop sign and glanced over at me. “Because, Malcolm. We don’t believe that for a moment.”
Chapter 12
Over the next couple days Charlie and I accomplished little in our search for Sharkey. While Charlie was off to Portland to help Jenny with a case, I was off to Bellingham to deliver some lectures that I was not able to postpone.
After delivering the final lecture in the morning, I happily made my way back to Seattle, rain pelting down on my windshield the entire way. According to the calendar, it was still autumn, but it felt more like winter.
By the time I reached West Seattle, the sun was shining and there was a glorious rainbow bridging the peninsula. I took it as an omen. I didn’t often believe in those, but when I did, they were selectively good omens. And I was convinced that this one had to do with Jenny.
By early afternoon, and there was still no sign of Charlie’s Bentley—I knew because I had been pacing back and forth in front of my lovely leaded-glass living room windows—I decided the practical thing to do was to call him.
“Malcolm?”
“Aye, are you en route home?”
“Och, no. It will be late afternoon, I’m sure.”
“Is Jenny hearing this conversation?”
“No, she’s still out.”
“Well, if you don’t mind, please let me know before you arrive home.”
“As in, I’m to give you a signal of sorts.”
“Excellent idea,” I said, as if it were his. “Just press my number on your cell as if accidentally. Then hang up and I’ll know you’re a few minutes out.”
Charlie chuckled. “Sounds a wee bit junior high school but I’m game. Are you sure you don’t want me to whisper a message to the lassie and then retrieve one from her to whisper back to you.”
“Smart ass,” I said. “I feel enough like a school boy without any reminders from you. And whatever you do, do not let her leave until I have a chance to talk to her.”
I could detect Charlie
’s smile through the phone. “After all the time it’s taken to get you off your arse?”
I groaned and glared at the phone in my hand.
“Do something useful, why don’t you? And stop pacing for God’s sake.”
Shit. How did he know? “Something useful such as?”
“We need to talk to as many sources as we can, anyone who is or has been close to Eddie. First to get a feel of their attitude toward him and second to get some insight into where he might have gone.”
“Moira,” I mumbled.
“Since we’ve already spoken with the offspring, the first ex-wife is a good place to start.”
I nodded as I hung up the phone. But before I set out to find Moira Sharkey, I took a walk down the street. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary at Sharkey’s, so I crossed over to Charlie’s where I stopped in to check the camera tape. No comings or goings for two days.
Next stop a woman’s boutique. Finding which boutique it was proved to be an easy task, aided considerably by the fact that it was named Moira’s Boutique. By the time I reached my destination, I had conceived of an excuse for being there, an excellent one at that.
The first person my eyes fell upon was Maureen, causing me to be grateful that I had indeed bothered to manufacture an excuse. She was too keen of a lassie to allow much to slip past her. And since nothing had changed with Andy, I could not use that as an excuse.
Her eyes darting toward mine and then toward the back room, indicated that she was concerned that her husband’s lack of faithfulness was indeed my reason for being there.
I quickly put her mind at ease. I shook my head and said, “Nothing to report.”
There was no attempt to hide a sigh of relief. She recovered quickly, smiling at me and saying, “Twice in three days. If I didn’t know how you felt about a certain someone, I’d think you were stalking me, Malcolm.”
Did everyone in Seattle and beyond know how I felt about Jenny McNair? Everyone except Jenny McNair, that is. “Actually, that certain someone is my reason for being here. I’m looking for a gift and since you’ve met Jenny, I thought perhaps you could advise me.”
Maureen laughed, just as her mother made an entrance from the back room. The ex Mrs. Sharkey’s smile was twice as broad as her daughter’s. She did that peculiar flip thing that women sometimes do with their hair when they think it will cause a man’s heart to beat faster, and took a step closer to me. “How may we help you?”
Maureen flashed her mother a look of disgust not unlike the looks I thought she had reserved for her father. “I have it under control, Mother.”
“I’m sure you do, dear, but it never hurts to have two women offering their assistance.” I actually thought I detected a glimpse of fluttering eyelashes.
“This is Malcolm MacGregor, Mother, a friend of Dad’s? He was at Dad’s the night you barged—”
“Oh, of course.” She shoved her hand toward me, forcing me to shake it. ”I thought you looked familiar. Well, we’ll just have to take extra special care of you, now won’t we?” More eyelash fluttering. Actually this time I would categorize it as batting.
“He’s shopping for a gift for a woman, Mother.” Maureen’s glare had hardened.
“Well, of course, he is, dear. This is a women’s boutique.”
Maureen groaned and I stifled a laugh. I quickly glanced around the shop, relieved to spot a jewelry display. What had I learned so far? I asked myself. That Maureen found her mother’s flirtatious nature as annoying as her father’s. And that Moira Sharkey did not have enough resentment and anger towards her ex to hold it against his friends. Or perhaps it was simply my immense charm and good looks that broke down the walls of bitterness. I chuckled to myself and forced my focus back to my analysis of the situation.
“Now, where shall we begin?” Moira asked. “Lingerie? We have some lovely negligees over here.”
I gulped back a laugh. “Uh, I was thinking more along the lines of jewelry.”
There was no effort to hide her disappointment. Had she planned to model them for me? Judging from Maureen’s roll of the eyes, she was undoubtedly wondering the same thing.
“I’m not sure Jenny would like any of our jewelry.” Maureen startled me with her assessment. Had she observed and categorized Jenny’s jewelry in their one brief encounter at the pub? “Oh, wait, we did get in some new pieces last week. They’re very cool. Very vintage.” She stepped in front of her mother, took my arm, and led me to the far end of the display. Nothing was quite Jenny’s style which tended toward crystal and amethyst necklaces or a piece that held some significance such as the peace symbol that she still wore on occasion after all these years. But the series of vintage necklaces did have an antique quality that would definitely appeal to Jenny far more than the gold jewelry emblazoned with lavish diamonds that was on display.
Although it was the Edwardian Filigree Geometric pendant that fascinated me, I knew it was too ornate for Jenny. While she would appreciate the vintage appearance of all the selections Maureen was showing me, I knew instantly which one would appeal to her heart—the art deco oval shaped silver pendant that was wrapped around a small emerald—her birth stone—surrounded by tiny diamonds. She would forgive it the extravagant gems which were subdued by the lovely silver antique patterning.
My eyebrows rose and Maureen assumed that it was due to the four thousand dollar price tag. “Too much?” she asked as she took it out of my hand, staring down at it, her smile turning to a frown.
I shook my head and smiled, reaching for my credit card. “Do you gift wrap?”
She grinned. “I’m sorry it’s so expensive. I really do think this is the best choice for Jenny.”
“It’s not a problem,” I told her. “I am impressed with your assessment. Particularly after meeting Jenny only once.”
“Not too hard,” Maureen said. “She’s a neat lady. Different, you know?”
Oh, I knew very well, but I was curious to know what she meant. “In what way?”
She shrugged as she tore off a sheet of wrapping paper from below the counter. “I’m not sure. She’s just . . . herself, I guess. She doesn’t pretend . . .” My fondness for the young girl was increasing by leaps and bounds.
“Does that make sense?”
“Aye, perfect sense,” I said, watching the lovely necklace as it was being delicately set inside a box that would be wrapped in white paper with a lavender ribbon. I was looking forward to seeing it hanging around Jenny’s neck. I was not certain when I would give it to her. I knew Jenny well enough that expensive gifts were not something that would win her heart. I would have to select my time carefully. Maybe I had sought out Moira’s Boutique for a reason that had nothing whatsoever to do with Sharkey.
However, I knew it was important that I leave the shop with more than a gift. A bolt of lightening struck me and I reached into my pocket to retrieve my cell as if I had been vibrated with a call. “Excuse me, ladies,” I said, pressing it to my ear. I carried on a monotone but hopefully realistic conversation, all the while having one eye and two ears on the ladies.
“You’ve met his girlfriend?” Moira promptly asked her daughter, her smile plastered to her lips as she gazed at me. Ah, so now Jenny was my girlfriend. A lovely concept.
“Yes,” Maureen said. “And she’s really nice. And pretty. And very down to earth. And several years younger than you are, Mother. As is Malcolm.”
“I get the message, Maureen, but you have to admit the man is gorgeous and well worth admiring . . . even if only from a distance. Mmm, tall, dark, muscular, with creamy brown eyes, definitely worth admiring.”
I turned away to hide my blush that would surely give away my intention of eavesdropping on their conversation. Gorgeous? I seriously doubted that. I looked like the quintessential physics professor with my vest sweater, tweed jacket, and messy hair.
“Okay, I agree he’s good-looking . . . but very taken,” Maureen said.
Moira groaned and sighed. “Well, if I h
adn’t given that bastard—your father—the best years of my life, I might have had the chance to attract—” The ex-wife was not so forgiving after all.
“Shut up, Mother. I’m tired of hearing it. Especially now.”
“Why now?”
“I’m worried about Dad. I told you that. He’s not returning my calls.”
Muttering something unintelligible into the empty air of my cell phone, I turned back to them. I wanted to see Moira’s reaction to her daughter’s concern.
She smirked and shook her head. “How can you possibly be worried about that? The man has never cared about anyone enough to return their calls, except when he feels like it. You know that.”
Maureen finished tying the bow on Jenny’s gift box, a little less gently than the task warranted. “I’m sorry you hate him, Mother. But no matter what you say, I love him and I’ll worry about him if I want to.” With that she walked around the counter and turned her attention to a rack of dresses.
Moira inhaled and exhaled a couple times before approaching her daughter. “I’m sorry, Maureen, it’s just that I know your father and—” Wisely she stopped before beating a dead horse. “I just don’t want you worrying about him. That’s all. He’ll undoubtedly return with some stories to tell. Pure fiction of course. He’s probably off in Fiji rescuing a family from a flood or something. You know how he loves playing hero and impressing people with his engineering knowledge. I’m sure he’s fine. He always is,” she said with a hint of resentment.
I wondered what Charlie would have inferred from their conversation. Actually I had a pretty good idea. Moira Sharkey was not a happy woman. She still blamed her ex-husband for that. And she resented the fact that he dared to be happy. Nor had it escaped my notice that while Maureen called her father the more endearing “dad,” she called her mother precisely that, “mother.” Good analysis, I commended myself.
Just as I was exiting the shop, my gift safely tucked inside my pocket, my phone rang in earnest. It was not a number I recognized but promptly answered.
“MacGregor?”
My back stiffened and I stopped just before crossing the street to my car. There was only one person who called me MacGregor. And the voice I’d just heard was not Jenny’s. “Yes?” I responded, my hesitation obvious.
Saving Sharkey Page 15