by Derek Fee
The building housing R.F. O’Sullivan was standing on a corner and looked like it had been there forever. It was an oasis of tradition in a desert of modernity. Moira had expected something upmarket and was pleased to see that Shea had chosen a neighbourhood eatery. She pushed the door open and found herself in a large room with a sturdy wooden bar on the right side and tables spread throughout. The room was already packed with the lunchtime crowd and there was a heavy buzz of conversation. Shea was sitting alone at a corner table. Moira made her way across the room and took the seat directly facing him. He had obviously been working on his tan over the past few weeks. ‘How have you been?’ she asked.
He pushed a menu across the table to her. ‘I’d suggest the burger with everything and chunky fries except it would cause havoc to your waist.’
A waiter came and stood beside them. ‘I’ll have the burger with everything,’ she said. ‘And chunky fries.’
‘Make it two and add some craft beers,’ Shea said.
The waiter smiled and departed.
‘Where did you pick up the tan?’ she asked.
‘A week sailing round Bermuda, I would have extended an invitation, but I don’t think Brendan would have been impressed.’
‘To hell with Brendan being impressed, I think I would have preferred Bermuda to the back row of a lecture theatre at Harvard.’
‘Philistine.’ He wondered whether she actually meant it.
The waiter deposited two beers on the table. ‘How did you find this place? I don’t associate you with burger joints.’
‘It used to be one of our favourite bars when we didn’t have much. It still has one of the best burgers in Boston.’
‘I was thinking of going to see Jean, but I thought you would have covered that base.’
‘I did.’
The waiter put two plates in front of them. Moira gulped when she saw what she was supposed to eat.
‘I warned you,’ Shea said.
Moira cut through her burger and exposed a thick chunk of meat. ‘What went down with Jean?’
Shea cut off a piece of burger and began to chew. He had missed Moira and wanted to prolong their lunch. ‘She’s filed for divorce on the grounds of her husband abandoning her.’
Moira started on her burger by cutting off a small piece of meat and moving the bun to the side of her plate. ‘You gave her the complete picture, Hernandez and the con.’
‘A potted version,’ Shea forked another mouthful and washed it down with a draught of beer. ‘She knows what she needs to know. The bottom line is that her marriage is over.’
‘And how did she take it?’
‘Like the trooper that she is. Let’s say that she’s reached the end of the grieving cycle. The business in Concord is up for sale and she’s already received several offers. She’s busy getting on with her new life.’
‘And the kids?’ Moira was slowly moving her way through her burger and was already reaching saturation point.
‘That’s another matter. They’re angry and upset and it’s going to be a long time before they reach acceptance and hope. They’ve decided that their father is an asshole so I’d say they’re making progress.’
‘They’re the ones that I’m sorry for. Jean can accept that her marriage died a long time ago, but the children have to bear the grief of losing their father.’ Moira had gone as far as she could with the meal and pushed her plate away. ‘What about Gardiner and Hernandez?’
‘They were as good as their word. They left Belize the following day for Morocco. From there I have no idea where they went. Hernandez has been in the business long enough to effect a disappearance. By now they’ve changed identity several times. They’re probably dressed in skins and living in a yurt in Outer Mongolia. Quite honestly if I never see either of them again so much the better.’ Shea had made a better attempt at finishing his burger before he too pushed his plate away.
‘And the information we gathered?’
‘Halliday received an anonymous package with the USB and a DVD with the footage from Miami International. Let them work it out. That’s what they’re paid for.’
Shea waved at the waiter and made the sign for the bill.
Moira was sad that the lunch was drawing to a close. She had missed Shea more than she thought.
‘Are you busy?’ Shea asked, taking out a roll of bills to pay for lunch. He pulled off a fifty-dollar bill and laid it on the table.
‘Not really, why?’
The waiter picked up the money and departed without presenting the bill.
‘I’ve got something to show you.’ Shea stood up, walked round to her side of the table and pulled back her chair.
They left the bar together and crossed the street to where Shea had parked his car in the parking lot of a supermarket.
‘Where are we going?’ she asked as Shea ushered her into the passenger seat.
‘You’ll see.’
They drove from Cambridge into the CBD and Shea pulled into a parking space in front of a large office building on Broadway. ‘We’re here.’ He turned off the car and got out.
‘Why the big mystery?’ Moira joined him on the footpath.
Shea strode towards the entrance of the building. They entered the large foyer, passed the reception and headed for the lifts. When the lift arrived, they entered and Shea pressed the button for the seventh floor.
‘OK,’ Moira said as the lift ascended. ‘Enough of the mystery, what are we doing here?’
‘You’ll see.’ Shea had an evil grin on his face.
The lift stopped on the seventh floor and they exited. There were several suites of offices leading in both directions away from the lifts. Shea walked towards the corridor on the right and then took the first corridor on the left. He turned and looked at Moira. ‘Close your eyes.’
‘You’re joking, right?’
‘Do as you’re told.’
She closed her eyes and he took her arm. He led her forward and she could hear a door opening.
‘You can open your eyes now.’
There was a squeal as Moira opened her eyes and saw Jamie Carmichael sitting behind a desk directly in front of her. Moira could see that she was in an outer office, but the sight that drew her eyes immediately was a large panel behind Carmichael’s head with the legend ‘Frank Shea Investigations’.
‘What the hell is this?’ Moira asked.
Carmichael stood up from behind the desk and threw herself at Moira. ‘It’s going to be so great.’
‘What’s going to be so great?’ Moira said.
Carmichael looked at Shea, who immediately took Moira’s arm and led her away from the outer office and towards the rear. ‘We have three more offices and a meeting room.’ He pointed out the offices as they passed along. The meeting room was glassed in and one wall was an electronic whiteboard. The offices had already been fitted out with desks, filing cabinets and computers. One of the offices had a desk covered in computer screens.
‘That’s Ricky’s office,’ Shea said as they passed by. ‘What do you think?’
‘Have you ever read Raymond Chandler?’ Moira said. ‘Sam Spade would toss his lunch if you put him in an office like this. If you want to be a real private eye, you have to have a dingy office above a Chinese laundry with paint peeling off the walls and furniture falling apart. This place looks like a management consultancy.’
‘Time moves on,’ Shea said. ‘Our future clients need to be impressed.’
‘I’m impressed.’ Carmichael’s remark was still running round in her head.
‘So impressed that you’d take one of those offices?’
She smiled. ‘It’s a lovely thought, but I think I might be on the first flight out if the INS found me breaking my visa conditions. Especially in the current political climate.’
‘Let me deal with that. Are you in?’
Brendan would go crazy, but this was the closest she would get to the work that she loved.
Shea removed a piece of pa
per that had been stuck over the door of one of the offices. It revealed the words ‘Moira McElvaney – Lead Investigator’.
She burst out laughing.
Shea was looking at her in anticipation.
‘I’m in,’ she said.
Author’s note
I hope that you enjoyed this book. As an indie author, I very much depend on your feedback to see where my writing is going. I would be very grateful if you would take the time to pen a short review on Amazon. This will not only help me but will also indicate to others your feelings, positive or negative, on the work. Writing is a lonely profession, and this is especially true for indie authors who don’t have the backup of traditional publishers.
Please check out my other books on Amazon, and if you have time visit my web site (derekfee.com) and sign up to receive additional materials, competitions for signed books and announcements of new book launches.
Derek Fee is a former oil company executive and EU Ambassador. He is the author of seven non-fiction books and ten novels. Derek can be contacted at http://derekfee.com.
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
Copyright©Derek Fee 2017