Saving Sharkey

by Felicity Nisbet

  I laughed. “That sounds suspiciously similar to when my mother would tell me when I was a wee lad what a good dish washer I was so I would keep washing the dishes.”

  The twinkle in Charlie’s eyes was the first I’d seen all day. “Smart man you are, Malcolm.” Scanning the statements, Charlie said, “The billing periods ended two to three weeks ago. All charges stopped over a month ago. But more recent expenditures might still show up on the computer statements.”

  An hour later, we were looking at his online statements. No expenditures to date.

  Charlie slapped Josh on the back. “You’re good at this, laddie. I think we’ll keep you around.”

  Josh beamed with pride. He had been asking to help for the last couple weeks. Now I understood why. He finally felt as if he belonged. Jenny had been wise enough to realize that immediately and had put him to work on her cases.

  “Do we still need to find his assets?” Josh asked.

  “Wouldn’t hurt. They might help us figure out why they took Eddie. Or where.”

  Josh fiddled for a while longer but could not come up with anything. “I don’t think we’re going to find it here.”

  “We can always ask Susan for help,” I said.

  Charlie shook his head. “I don’t want to put the lass in jeopardy of losing her job. Maureen and Declan can tell us the ones they know about. I suspect there are others they’re unaware of. Have we searched every inch of this office?”

  “Twice,” I said. “Maybe we should check other parts of the house.”

  “Aye. I’ll take the master bedroom.”

  I nodded. “Josh, you want to help me?”

  “Sure.” He jumped up from the computer and followed me into the bar room. Sure enough, hidden inside a cabinet and beneath a bottle of single malt whisky was a slim envelope. I opened it and pulled out two sheets of paper. One was a list of his entire investment portfolio and the properties he owned. The other was a list of his bank accounts, including two offshore and three foreign accounts. He had not been exaggerating when he’d said his money was well-protected.

  I told Josh to get Charlie which he promptly did. The detective laughed when I told him where I’d found it.

  “Should have known. Should have tried there first.”

  “Aye, indeed, but our friend has been holding out on us, I fear.”

  Charlie’s brow furrowed. “In what way?”

  “This bottle of single malt is not the thirty-year-old Glenfiddich he served us.”

  Charlie’s eyes narrowed. “What is it then?”

  “A forty-year-old bottle. The Macallan 1939.”

  “No!”

  “I would not lie about that.”

  “What would that set him back?”

  “Oh, I’d say upwards of ten thousand.”

  “Dollars?” Josh asked. “For a bottle of whisky?”

  “Aye, and what a bottle it is,” I said, holding it up for Charlie to see.

  “Well, then, all I can say is that when this is over, he owes us.”

  “And we know exactly how we’ll make him pay,” I said. “So, now we’d best find the man!”

  We reviewed the list of accounts and investment portfolios and rental properties he owned throughout Washington and California. He also owned a home in Edinburgh and another in the highlands. And of course, Tara Island.

  “What does this tell us?” Josh asked.

  I slipped the papers back inside of the envelope and tucked it safely beneath his whisky. “That it would be difficult for anyone to access his money, without his cooperation.”

  Charlie sighed. “And it tells us that the man is very wealthy. It would be highly unlikely that anyone who took him, even if for another reason, would not take advantage of his wealth.”

  “But it still makes more sense that if they only were after his money, they would have taken Maureen or Declan and requested ransom,” I repeated a subject we had discussed more than once.

  “So, if they took him, it must be for revenge as well,” Charlie said.

  “You mean they’ll kill him?” Josh said, putting two and two together.

  “Possibly,” Charlie responded. “But most likely not until they get their hands on some of this wealth.”

  “Unless—”

  “What, Josh?” Charlie asked.

  He shook his head to discount his question.

  “Out with it, laddie.”

  Josh shrugged. “Well, if they aren’t requesting ransom, maybe they aren’t after his money because . . . because they don’t need to be.”

  Charlie and I looked at each other. It was another subject we had discussed before. Charlie was the one to respond. “And the only ones who don’t need to get his money via ransom, are the ones who would be getting it another way—”

  “If he died. Which leads us back to—”

  “His children,” Josh said.

  “A dismal thought,” Charlie said.

  Dismal indeed. A thought I refused to entertain. “Assuming it is not his bairns who are behind this, could they be holding him in one of these locations?” I asked, holding up the list of properties we had found.

  “Not likely,” Charlie said. “There is a boat involved and none of these properties are on the water except for this house and Tara Island of course. Unless the disappearance of the boat is unrelated or intended to mislead us. Which means I’d best have them all checked out.”

  “This guy owns an island?” Josh asked. “Cool.”

  “Yeah, an island not far from Three Dog Island,” I said.

  “Really?”

  “Aye, just one over, I believe.”

  “Wow! I might have ended up there instead. So, have you looked there for him?”

  “We’ve been in touch with the caretakers,” Charlie said. “And Eddie’s kids have spoken with them as well. Speaking of which, I’d best check in with them.” Charlie pressed Maureen’s number into his cell and updated her on our findings. He did embellish the point that if no money had been moved, there was a good chance her father was still alive. But both of us knew the truth. There was just as great a chance that if no money had been moved, he no longer was alive.

  Chapter 21

  Something was telling me I needed to go to the islands. I needed to see Jenny. And I needed to do it now. If I had learned anything from the McNair family, it was to listen to my intuition. It was yet to lead me astray.

  Perhaps it was the feeling that, as overused as the adage was, life was short, and never had it seemed shorter than when one was wondering if a friend was still alive or not.

  “I know it’s not the ideal time for me to leave for a couple days, particularly in light of the fact that Sarai is now missing as well,” I told Charlie. “But I really feel that it’s important that I go.”

  “I understand, laddie. I appreciate your help at the house yesterday. I know you have other work to attend to.”

  “I’m not off to Bellingham,” I told him.

  “Where then?”

  “Anamcara.”

  “I see.”

  “You’re not upset I’m leaving you to deal with this mess with Eddie and Sarai?”

  Charlie’s effort to stifle a smile was futile. “It sounds like an important visit to my daughter’s.”

  “Why would you say that?”

  “Your tone of voice, laddie. You have something on your mind?”

  I hesitated for a moment. How much did I share? I had made a decision. I enjoyed teaching. Considering that I had been doing it for twenty one years, that was a good thing. Because of other activities in my life—my work in Scotland which took me to Edinburgh at least three times a year, various lectures and conferences, research, publishing—over the years I had reduced my class load to two courses which I co-taught with other professors in order to leave my time somewhat flexible. Reducing that by half again and teaching only one course would still keep my hand in and my brain stimulated. Yet it would free up more space in my life for other things. />
  “I’ve something important to discuss with her,” I answered.

  “Then by all means you should go. It does seem to be important.”

  It was. For some reason it was important that I go as soon as possible. And, according to my intuition, that reason had to do with something other than my feelings for Jenny.

  “What will you do while I’m away?”

  “Review our notes—again. Maybe I can go over them with Josh. He’d enjoy that and who knows, it might give me some new insight. Maybe I’ll nose around the house some more as well. Allow things to steep, I suppose. Possibly even discuss the matter with my old friend Jack Sawyer.”

  Ah, so he was seriously considering bringing in the police. “With Sarai gone, it might be a good idea now.”

  “I’m thinking so. They have resources we don’t.”

  “Do they, now?” I asked.

  Charlie’s impish smile emerged for which I was grateful. “Not many but some.”

  “Let me know what you decide to do. I’m only a phone call away. I’ll be back in a couple days.”

  “Right. Away with you then. Good trip and all that.”

  I nodded and called good-bye to Josh and patted Charlie on the back before going off to see my students who were waiting with baited breath for my next pearl of wisdom.

  * * *

  Several hours later, I was on the Anamcara ferry when I called Jenny. She laughed and told me that I was as bad as Charlie. She was at the market but I talked her into meeting me at the Flower of Scotland.

  She was there ahead of me, sitting at a table in the corner, close to the fireplace but still private. Her face lit up when she saw me. It was a look I wanted to catch on film so I could look at it any time.

  She stood up to hug me and I wondered if her notion of cooking the evening meal would have been a better idea. We would be at the house now.

  She cleared her throat and released me. “You look beautiful, McNair,” I said.

  She laughed that self-conscious laugh she gets when someone gives her a compliment. “I got caught in the rain.” She ran her fingers through her damp hair. “The sky opened up for all of five minutes and I happened to be between my car and the market.”

  “Beautiful,” I said.

  This time she blushed. “How are things going with the case you and Charlie are working on?”

  I stifled a groan. The one subject I was continually avoiding. I wanted to ask how she knew, but did not wish to dwell on this subject. Instead I resorted to one of Charlie’s avoidance strategies and said, “Why do you ask?”

  “Charlie seems distracted. Just not himself lately.”

  I would have liked to tell her everything, about Sharkey and Sarai, and how Charlie needed some moral support from her, but I couldn’t. Not if I did not want her involved. I settled for, “He’s busy. It’s a tough case.”

  “And when will you be telling me about it?”

  I smiled. “As soon as we’ve solved it.” I quickly changed the subject and brought her up to date on the arrests and charges in Josh’s case. She was breathing more easily now that she knew there was the promise of a normal future for the boy she had rescued, taken in, and started to love.

  She brought me up to date on another case she had been working on at the same time as Josh’s case. Then we talked about betrayal. And her ex-husband. And we laughed and talked about loot and pirates and smugglers. We talked about Matthew’s reaction to our relationship and when she would tell Holly about me. She wanted to tell her in person. Thanksgiving. I would wait.

  And we gazed into each other’s eyes across two plates of fish and chips and two pints of Belhaven. When she stopped eating, distracted by me—I’d like to think—I fed her a few more bites of food. I had plans for the evening and I did not want her passing out from hunger.

  And then I told her I had been waiting for her for twenty years.

  A look of skepticism swept across her face. “I know you’ve had feelings—Charlie mentioned—you’ve had feelings for a long—But—seriously? You’ve really been waiting for me for twenty years?”

  “Aye, lassie, I have.”

  Again that adorable self conscious laugh. This time it was accompanied by a doubtful shake of the head. “You don’t mean—”

  I knew precisely what she was asking. “I wasn’t exactly leading a monk’s life while you were married, if that’s what you’re asking. I have not been celibate for twenty years.”

  “I hope not.” She laughed.

  God, that laugh. That smile. That look of love in her eyes. I had wanted to give her the vintage necklace I’d bought for her from Moira’s Boutique. I had wanted to discuss important things with her. But it looked as if it would have to wait until morning. I tossed a couple of twenty dollar bills on the table and took her hand. Right now there was only one thing I wanted to be doing.

  * * *

  When I climbed out of the shower, I heard voices downstairs. Sasha had shown up bright and early. I dried off and dressed, shaking the water out of my hair before rubbing it. I froze for a moment as I looked around the room. I was standing in the middle of Jenny’s bedroom, a room I hoped to make mine as well.

  I smiled as I scanned the photographs she had selected to put on her bedroom wall. One of them was of her with her Aunt Winnie. The others I had developed and framed for her were downstairs. Also on the wall where she could see them from the bed, were photographs of her with Charlie and Bryn and Cameron. There was one with the three of us after we had solved a case long ago—Charlie and me with Jenny in the middle. And there were two of Matthew and Holly. One with just the two of them, brother and sister, the other with Jenny between them. None with Joe.

  I pulled on my socks and shoes, still gazing at the family album that was displayed across her walls. It was interesting how, even when Holly resembled her father, and Matthew looked so much like Jenny, that the siblings still looked alike.

  Just as I finished dressing and was about to start down the stairs, my cell phone rang. Charlie. “Missing me already?”

  He chuckled. Then it was silent for a moment before he spoke. “I’m sorry to interrupt your visit, laddie, but this is important.”

  Chills ran down my spine, validating his words as I stepped back into the bedroom to have this conversation. “What is it, Charlie?”

  He had made himself useful. He had scanned hours of surveillance tapes looking for clues. Looking for anything. And he had found it. “The night Mok returned from San Francisco and the next day when he left to go back to his ship, the camera did not show his coming or going.”

  Chills, followed by logic. “Maybe he got a taxi and came through the side door to the garage which is barely in view of the camera.”

  “But remember, he said Sarai had picked him up.”

  “Aye, I remember.”

  “Well, she didn’t. The car wasn’t moved on either of those days.”

  Now chills were running the length of my spine as I sank onto the bed, my eyes rising to see the photos once again. “There’s something else, Charlie.”

  “What, Malcolm?”

  “I don’t think Mok is Sarai’s brother.”

  “Why not?”

  “For one, he doesn’t resemble Sarai. His face is much rounder.”

  “So? Siblings don’t always resemble each other.”

  “The two boys in the photograph on her nightstand? Similar jaw structure. And they’re at least six or seven years younger than she is.”

  “And clearly Mok is older than she is,” Charlie said.

  “Exactly.”

  “He could have been away when the photograph was taken.”

  “Could have been,” I said. ”But I don’t think so.”

  “Neither do I,” Charlie confessed.

  “So, if he didn’t enter and exit through the front door, there’s a pretty good chance he came and went via boat.”

  “Aye. And do you remember how resistant Sarai was to telling us how she got into the
country? No matter how hard we tried, and Eddie tried, we could not get her to tell us how she had managed to get into the U.S.”

  “You think she came via ship,” I said.

  “I do.”

  “Smuggling?” The word had popped into my mind, possibly because the evening before Jenny and I had been joking about loot and pirates and smuggling. Or possibly it was that intuition that I was beginning to appreciate.

  “Aye, I suspect so. It could be drugs, gems, art, anything, even people.”

  “And it’s probable that Mok is the ring leader which means he’s been in this country more than once which explains why he’s comfortable finding his way around.”

  “And why his English is so good. He’s obviously holding something over Sarai’s head or she would not have cooperated with him. Unless she’s in on it, of course.”

  I nodded to myself. “Eddie alluded to her having been abused in some way. He said she’d been taken advantage of. Mok may very well have put her on the streets, then brought her over here so she owes him.”

  “Unless she too is very corrupt, which I don’t see, he would have to be holding something over her.”

  “Eddie’s safety? A family member’s safety?”

  “Maybe.”

  “It’s looking more like a crime of greed. I’d better get back down there. If smuggling is involved here, I do believe it’s time to bring in the authorities.”

  “Aye, but did you do what you went there to do, laddie?”

  I sighed, wishing I had not been so damned anxious to take Jenny to bed the night before. “Not yet.”

  “Well, stay for a wee bit longer. I’ve a class to teach anyway. Catch an afternoon ferry out.”

  I hung up the phone and trotted down the stairs. A mixture of joy and anxiety had come over me. As much as I liked Sasha, I hoped she wasn’t planning to stay for a long visit.

  I laughed when Sasha surprised me with a hug as I entered the kitchen. But the laugh did not last long.

  “What’s wrong, MacGregor?” Jenny asked.

  I released Sasha and walked toward the woodstove where a very odd looking dog with a stubby body and long droopy ears stood beside Rocky. “Who is this?”

  “That’s Whistler, my dog that Jenny and I rescued,” Sasha said.