Saving Sharkey

by Felicity Nisbet

  “Hi, this is Sasha. Jenny’s friend on the island. Do you remember me?”

  “Of course, Sasha. What can I do for you?”

  “Josh, you know, the boy Jenny took in—?”

  “What’s happened?”

  “He’s disappeared. I stopped by the cottage to check on him and he’s not here. I’m really worried. Jenny’s still down in Portland and it will take her all day to get here. So I called you. I’m sorry.”

  “You did the right thing.” I glanced down at my watch and closed my eyes as if my eyelids had the Anacortes ferry schedule imprinted on them. Actually they did. I had just enough time to get home and pack an overnight bag and reach the late afternoon ferry out of Anacortes to the islands. “I’ll head out as soon as I can. I should be there by early evening.”

  “Thank you!”

  “No problem.” Before I hung up, “Are you okay, lass?”

  After a long pause, “I think so. Just worried. MacGregor?”

  “Aye?”

  “Rocky’s gone too.”

  “I’m on my way.” Sharkey’s case was back in Charlie’s lap again. But this was a boy’s life . . and a dog’s—a boy and a dog of whom Jenny had become extremely fond.

  * * *

  An hour later I was driving north when my phone rang again. I answered, pressing the speaker button. “Sasha?”

  “Yes. He’s okay. They’re okay.”

  I exhaled and pulled off the freeway at the next exit. “Where were they?”

  “Went for a run. A long run. I’m sorry I bothered you.”

  “It was no bother. I’m glad you called me. He’s okay, you’re sure?”

  “Yes, he ended up here at my place.”

  “Good. Keep him there, if you don’t mind. I think that will make Jenny feel better.”

  “Do you think I should call her and tell her?”

  I hesitated before answering. “No reason to upset her. She’s en route back to Seattle now. I’ll tell her when she gets here.”

  “Okay, then,” Sasha said, and I could almost hear a smile coming through the phone. “I’ll leave it up to you. And MacGregor?”

  “Aye?”

  “Tell Jenny it’s fine with me if she wants to spend the night.”

  I hung up with a smile on my face. She was not talking about her friend spending the night at her father’s. Jenny had been discussing me with Sasha. That had to be a good sign.

  * * *

  It was another long hour before Charlie’s cell phone rang and hung up immediately. I went over to my bar and poured two glasses of Cabernet, then headed back to my post at the window.

  Five minutes later Charlie’s Bentley rolled up to his house and pulled into the driveway. Jenny jumped out before he did, snatched her overnight bag from the back seat and went around to hug her father. This was not a good sign. She hurried over to her Volvo, swung open the back door, tossed her bag onto the seat, and jumped behind the wheel. Just as she was pulling away from the curb, I waved and she stopped, rolling down her window.

  She apologized for not being able to talk, explaining that Josh wasn’t answering her home phone and she needed to get back to the island as soon as possible.

  My finger, obviously having a mind of its own, pressed itself against her lips and I said, “He’s fine.”

  “What?” she asked. The fear eased from her eyes to be replaced with relief which quickly turned to bewilderment.

  “Sasha called me.”

  “What’s happened? And why didn’t she call me?” Not quite fear but definitely anxiety and that parent’s worry I had seen in her eyes many times. A parent’s worry I had wished I could share with her.

  I relayed what Sasha had told me and why she hadn’t called Jenny. There was no need to worry her when she couldn’t do anything about it. What neither of us had accounted for was Jenny’s resolve to keep an eye on the lad from a distance and that she would call the house frequently and discover for herself that he was missing.

  After listening to my explanation, she exhaled and looked up at me and smiled. “Thanks, MacGregor.”

  “You’re welcome, McNair. And now will you please park your car and come have a wee dram?”

  Disappointment crept across her face and she said, “I think I’d better head home.”

  Now the disappointment was mine. One last hope. “Give Sasha a call before you decide.” Actually another last hope. “Besides which, you’ll be hard pressed to make the last ferry out.”

  I could tell by Jenny’s side of the conversation that Sasha was trying to convince her to stay. I knew I liked her friend.

  “I might have to now. With rush hour traffic, I’m not sure I’ll make the last ferry out of Anacortes,” Jenny said into the phone, laughing at Sasha’s response, and then adding, “Okay, but don’t let Josh move until I get home.”

  Sasha’s turn again. She said something which accounted for that endearing blush that was creeping up Jenny’s cheeks. I didn’t mean to stare, but there was no way in hell I was going to let her get away. Not this time.

  “So, are you going to park Winston now, lass?”

  She seemed startled, possibly by my boldness, or more likely by the fact that I knew the name she had given her car. As soon as she had parked, I reached down and opened her door, continuing to block her way. When she climbed out, we were standing face to face, only inches apart.

  “So, what’s going on here, MacGregor?”

  “Going on here?” I asked, a smile on my lips.

  “Between us?”

  My smile was growing as I leaned down and pressed my lips against hers. It was the most divine sensation God could have created. Well, close to it. I released her for a moment, and stepped away. “Do you really need to ask, lassie?” I opened the back door of her Volvo, grabbed her overnight bag, and closed the door again.

  I finally looked away from her and strode across the street and up the stairs to my front door. When I turned, she was still staring after me, either recovering from my incredible kissing skills, or possibly my subtle admission of exactly what was going on between us. Attributing my sudden bout of confidence to her return of affection, I laughed and said, “Are you planning to stand there all night or are you coming inside then?”

  As if in a trance, she stared up at me, finally closing her car door and walking slowly toward me. I had a sudden flash of Charlie watching this entire scene through his picture window, but quickly dismissed it from my imagination. Before she reached the top stair, I had set down her overnight bag and scooped up the two glasses of Cabernet I had already poured. As she came through the door, I handed her one and motioned for her to have a seat on the couch. I did not want her in a chair where I would not be able to sit beside her.

  But she had other ideas. She took a sip of her wine, smiled, and turned and headed down the hallway that led to my bedroom. Five minutes later I was in bed, making love to the woman I had loved for the better part of my adult life.

  Chapter 13

  Charlie didn’t ask. The smug expression on his face did, but I was not about to relieve his curiosity nor would I give him the satisfaction of gloating for having known all along what was going on between his daughter and me.

  He filled me in on his trip to Portland and I filled him in on my trip to Moira’s Boutique.

  “An excellent excuse for being there, I must say, particularly since my daughter is to be the beneficiary. So, did you give Jenny her gift?”

  I smiled. “I will select my time carefully.”

  “Wise beyond your years, laddie. Truth be told, she does not do well with expensive gifts. She never has.”

  “Maybe she’s never been given any.”

  “Aye, for a reason. She does not care for extravagance.”

  “Well, she never needs to know the cost of the item in question. And, once we resolve the issue of our missing friend, I can tell her it was simply an excuse to go into the store to gain information. Then she shall be more willing to accept it.”


  Charlie’s single raised eyebrow disagreed. I chose to ignore it. At least he agreed with my analysis of my observation at the boutique and my analysis that Moira was not only erratic, but she was likely to have a volatile side.

  “So, now that we are moving forward under the assumption that there is foul play involved in our friend’s disappearance, have we considered a motive?” I asked him.

  “That which is usually the motive—love—which could come in the form of revenge—or money.”

  “Well, then, that would leave out—”

  “No one,” Charlie said. “No one is beyond wanting more money. Even the wealthy.”

  “In other words, even the greedy offspring are under suspicion. But would they really harm their father? I do believe Maureen is genuinely worried about him.”

  “Not necessarily harm him.”

  “But kidnap him perhaps?”

  “It could be that they’ve detained him for a while to keep him away from women who may be after his money. But Eddie did mention that they are the sole inheritors of his estate.”

  “But apparently they’re not aware of that.”

  “Even so, we do have to keep in mind that they are the ones who would benefit financially from his death.”

  “Death? I refuse to entertain that possibility. Particularly at the hands of his children.”

  “Aye, I prefer not to believe that either. But we must consider the possibility that they have simply detained him long enough to keep him away from money-hungry women.”

  “Even then. I can’t see it of Maureen. Nor Declan,” I said. “Do they really need to worry? Sarai is nothing like Aileen.”

  “Speaking of Aileen, and considering the threats he has received, it could simply be revenge.”

  Chills ran up my spine. “Again a more dismal thought.”

  “With more dismal consequences. Particularly if James Webb is involved.”

  “The builder who was released from prison? Have you learned anything?””

  “Nothing other than his name and the date he was released from prison, his supposed whereabouts over the past few weeks. I’m working on setting up appointments with him and his prison mates.”

  “In between helping Jenny with Josh’s case.”

  “Aye, there is that too. But right now I suggest that we seek out the lovely Irish maiden.”

  “And how do we do that without her suspecting that we’ve an ulterior motive? I suppose we could run into her on campus, but our buildings are no where near hers.”

  “O’Connell’s would be better. On a Wednesday evening. After her soccer team practices.”

  “Speaking of soccer, are you planning to play today?” I asked.

  “I was considering it. You?”

  “Aye, I thought I would. Someone from the team might be able to offer us some insight.”

  “Hopefully.”

  “Do we get them when they’re drunk or sober?”

  Charlie laughed. “Let’s start with sober.

  We settled on speaking to the lads prior to the warm up, such as it was. Rather than officially gathering the players around us, Charlie picked his moment carefully. They were in a circle, preparing to pass the ball back and forth. It had to seem casual enough so as not to alarm them.

  “Has any of you seen Eddie these last couple weeks?” he asked. “We could certainly benefit from his athletic prowess in these matches.”

  They all agreed but shook their heads in ignorance.

  “Do you know where he might have gone?” I asked.

  The answers were similar. Business trip or pleasure. Either way, there was certain to be a young lady involved, emphasis on the young.

  Charlie asked if anyone knew where he liked to travel for pleasure. The answers were the same. Other than his island, anywhere there was likely to be attractive young women wandering around. A warm climate was a given, as the fewer and skimpier the items of clothing, the happier the man was.

  “Well, that was certainly helpful,” I commented as we began our warm up.

  “Don’t discount it completely, Malcolm. Often more telling is one’s body language than their actual words.”

  “Ah, and did you notice anything?”

  “Only that they were genuinely finding the subject amusing.”

  “Which means?”

  “None of these lads believes anything is out of the ordinary. And none of them seemed sufficiently disturbed by our questions that they would have any involvement in Sharkey’s disappearance.”

  “Except Father O’Malley, that is.”

  “Aye, you noticed that too. What was your assessment of his wrinkled brow and frown throughout the jesting?”

  “That he does believe there’s cause for concern.”

  “My take as well.”

  “Maybe we’re stimulating that concern with our questions.”

  “You’re worried about him, aren’t you?” Father O’Malley had sneaked up behind us. “You don’t believe Eddie is simply on a walkabout of . . . pleasure.”

  “Aye, we are concerned. It was disturbing enough that he didn’t show up for the island game last weekend, but it’s been another week and still no sign of him. You are concerned as well, Father.”

  Father O’Malley nodded. “I know what the lads think, and it is not unlike him to disappear for a wee while at a time, but for some reason I feel this is different.”

  “Just a feeling?” Charlie asked.

  Father O’Malley’s eyes glanced upward. “A strong feeling.”

  We lost the game and more woes were exchanged over Sharkey’s absence.

  Father O’Malley’s younger brother Sean, who was well into his fifties, was kicking at the dirt beneath his cleat in frustration. “We almost had them,” he mumbled. “If Eddie had been here, we would have taken this one.”

  I had to agree. More than half the time that I managed to gain possession of the ball in the midfield, when I passed it off to another player, it was fumbled and lost. I too had longed to have Sharkey on the wing.

  “He is a skilled player,” Charlie said.

  “If he didn’t go off chasing skirts every other day, we might actually win a bloody game.”

  “Cool off, Sean,” Father O’Malley said. “Thanks to these lads we now have playing with us, we actually have won a couple games.” He put his hand on his brother’s shoulder to calm him, but the scowl did not leave the younger O’Malley’s face. When the priest rubbed his brother’s shoulder as if that would help dissipate the anger, he shrugged, knocking the priest’s hand away and rejecting his consolation. A moment later he walked off the field toward his car.

  “Excuse him,” Father O’Malley said. “He’s just in a foul mood.”

  “He seems particularly upset with Eddie,” Charlie said.

  “That he is, that he is,” Father O’Malley agreed.

  “It seems a wee bit out of proportion to the crime, do you think?” Charlie asked. “The man didn’t show up for a game is all.”

  “Aye, ‘tis that and more,” Father O’Malley said. Charlie did not say a word, leaving the empty air for the priest to fill. And he did precisely that. “Ach, it goes back a long ways before this. I’m afraid Sean’s wife took a liking to Eddie.”

  “A liking?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “More than a wee liking. She fell in love with the man and left my brother for him.”

  “And they play on the same soccer team?” Charlie asked.

  “Not always. Sean just recently joined the team. A decision I fear he regrets. As I’m beginning to. We all thought he’d gotten over the incident, but apparently not.”

  “Och, no, not something easily forgiven when a man steals away another man’s wife.” Charlie’s wheels were turning along the same path as my own. Directly towards those threatening letters, slashed tires, and failing brakes. And once more we were learning things about our new friend that we did not particularly like.

  “You misunderstand,” Father O’Mal
ley said quickly, putting up a hand as if that would stop our train of thought. “Eddie did nothing to encourage the woman. He was with Aileen by then, well-entrenched I might add. But my sister-in-law, ex, that is, did not seem to care about that. She was so smitten with the man, that she chased him like a male dog chases a bit—” He stopped himself, realizing that his choice of words might not be appropriate for a priest. “The point is, she pursued him most fervently, but he didn’t give her a second glance. Unfortunately she’d already done the damage to their marriage and it was not to be recovered. She left the area, moved back to the mid-west where she was from, and that was the end of that. Also unfortunate, Sean blamed Eddie. He assumed the worst about the lad.”

  Charlie’s eyes met mine and we both sighed, somewhat relieved that our faith in Sharkey could once again be restored. Although he may not be the culprit in this particular incident or other similar ones, he definitely lived a far more complicated life than we had originally realized.

  “And when was all this?” Charlie asked.

  “Oh, four or five years now,” he answered.

  I could see Charlie chafing at the bit to ask if it was four or five. Four would put it right about the time of the first letter Sharkey had received. But rather than raise alarm, Charlie controlled himself.

  * * *

  Red tape seemed to be working against us where James Webb was concerned. But I wasn’t worried. It might be taking some time, but I knew Charlie would find a way into the system to get us the information and appointments we needed.

  However, the luck of the Irish was on our side when it came to running into Aileen. And we did not have to wait until the Wednesday.

  She showed up at the Shamrock and Thistle to hear Charlie’s band. Probably not intentionally to hear them. Her timing was just good . . . or bad. The fact is, if you’re within a three mile radius of the Shamrock and Thistle when Charlie’s band is playing, you hear it.

  “What are youse two doing here?” Not an unexpected greeting from the Irish lass.

  Charlie opted to ignore Aileen’s unfriendly manner and pulled up a barstool beside her. “How are you doing, lassie?”