"Céad míle fáilte! Welcome to Paddy's. Have a seat anywhere."
CJ nodded and continued to scan the darkened interior. There were no women sitting alone, none even who resembled Rebecca O'Reilly lounging anywhere. Of course, if she changed from her widow outfit and removed the sunglasses, he'd likely not recognize her at all unless he sat down in front of her and could study her cheek bones. He continued with his limp until he was seated in the same booth as the day before, facing so that he could see anyone who came through the door, whether Rebecca or one of his newly found friends. He opened a menu and pretended as though he was looking at it until the barmaid approached, less than thirty seconds later.
"What can we do for you today, me friend?" she said.
"Just a Guinness," he said.
She bent down and peered under the cap-bill. "Tis Mister Washburn," she said, her voice low. "Follow me. Mrs. O'Reilly tis awaiting you."
Surprised, CJ slid from the booth and fell in behind the young woman. He noticed that Paddy was not around, that another man at least ten years older was busy cleaning the grill. Business was apparently slow on a Friday mid-afternoon.
They passed by the bathrooms, through a door with a sign that read, EMPLOYEES ONLY, and into a wide hall lined with shelves packed with goods of all sorts. The hall opened into a storage room. She opened another door and stepped aside. CJ entered and the door closed behind him. Paddy McGee sat at a desk. In a chair off to the side sat Rebecca O'Reilly, still in black, sans the sunglasses.
"Have a seat, Mister Washburn," Paddy said.
CJ removed his hat and sat in the only other chair.
"I have to say I'm not happy about the turn o' events and then Becca asking you to meet her back here. I hope that you made sure you weren't followed. I can't have my pub being connected with all of this."
"What exactly is all of this?"
"We left Ireland because we wanted to be away from the violence, the not being able to be friends with someone just because they was different, the always having to be on guard. And now here it is again, right here in America. My sister's husband is dead."
CJ looked over at Rebecca who sat stone-faced, eyes alert, focused, angry. Even with that he could see the resemblance, she at least five years younger. "Rebecca is your sister?"
"Yes."
CJ sat back and thought about it. "The two of you and your cousin in Indiana came to America together?"
"In 2000. Just me cousin and me at first," Paddy said. "Twas 2006 that Becca joined me, after our màthair died o' grief."
"Màthair?"
"Our mother. We lost our athair, our father, to the troubles in '98."
"Troubles?"
"The troubles what we call 'em, the violence in Derry that began in the late 60's. For nearly thirty years it tore our country apart. In 1998, after it was supposedly all ended, a marketplace was bombed in Omagh, less than 50 kilometers south o' Derry. Our parents had gone there to enjoy the day. Our Màthair had just gone in search o' a toilet when the bomb went off less than a dozen feet from where she left our athair standing. He died in her arms."
"I'm very sorry. I gather, then, that you are not a member of UIRA."
"Neither the UIRA, or PIRA, or IRA, or any o' the other splinter groups. I do know that Douglas was involved in some o' that, and despite my disapproval, Becca supported him."
CJ looked at Rebecca. "You haven't told him, I gather."
She shook her head. "No."
"Told me what?" He looked at his sister. "Told me what, Becca?"
"Doug was..." she said. "I didn't know."
"Doug was what?"
"Doug worked for the FBI," she said, barely above a whisper.
Paddy looked between his sister and CJ. To CJ he said, "This is true?"
"He was an FBI informant, yes."
Paddy put his elbows on the desk and his head in his hands. "Mother o' God! And you didn't know, Becca?"
"I had no idea."
"Did Eveleen know?"
"I don't think so."
"I was the one who told Eveleen," CJ said. "Either she was an exceptional actor or she was truly shocked and angry."
"I'd say she'd be angry. She's a major player in the UIRA, or at least used to be. I'm assuming that if he was with the FBI, he'd have been spying on her organization; hell, spying on her."
"Her organization?" CJ said. "Define major player?"
"She's one o' the four who founded the group, the reason I was so much against Becca marrying him."
"Ah," CJ said. "That brings us around to another small item. Your marriage, Rebecca. Did you know before today that Douglas was already married?"
"I knew that he had been married and that he was divorced," she said, then her voice took on an edge of anger. "I did not know that he had a daughter. He led me to believe that he had no children at all."
"You'd never heard of the name, Rothbower?"
"No."
CJ said to Paddy. "But you knew."
"I knew that he'd gone by Rothbower at one time, but I also thought he was divorced, without children. I was shocked yesterday when you told me his daughter had been killed."
CJ snorted a laugh. "It appears there are a few communication gaps in all of this. Everybody knew some piece. If you'd all gotten together and talked about it, you might have known everything."
"We all thought he was divorced and that he had no children," Paddy said.
"Why did you never tell your sister about his real name?"
"Despite how I felt about Eveleen–believe me, there's no love lost there–in my opinion he was born an O'Reilly, and that was his real name. I liked Doug; I just didn't like his association with UIRA thus my reason for not approving o' his marriage to Becca. We came to America to be free o' the troubles, not to start more."
"Starting more may be right," CJ said.
"What do you mean?"
"Douglas told me that whatever he was undercover for, it was about to be over. I got the impression there was something major brewing and the FBI was about to engage it and bring it down, at least the part on this side of the Atlantic."
Paddy nodded. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised."
"Why's that? What can a group accomplish from 4,000 miles away?"
There suddenly came a knock on the door, and it opened. They all looked up to find the barmaid with a tray and two mugs of beer.
"Just bringing Mister Washburn his Guinness," she said.
"Thank you," CJ said, taking a mug of foaming brew from her tray.
The second mug she handed to Paddy.
"Thank you, Hannah?" Paddy said.
As Hannah left, CJ noted that Rebecca already had a dark beverage in a regular glass. He recalled the profile she'd provided him as she left his hotel room and was willing to bet that the beverage was non-alcoholic. "How far along are you, Becca?"
She gave him a little bit of a surprised look and then said, "Twelve weeks."
"Congratulations," was the only thing he could think to say.
"Thank you."
"I ask again," CJ said after taking a sip of the beer, "what can UIRA accomplish from 4,000 miles away?"
"There are thousands, no probably tens of thousands o' Irish Catholics in the United States willing to provide some amount o' monetary support. With that a small group can do a lot o' damage, gain a lot o' attention."
"And it all has to do with ridding Ireland of British rule?"
Paddy held up his hands. "Let us slow down. A lot o' people don't understand what exactly has been going on. They think o' Ireland as one country when actually it is two. In 1922 Ireland split into two factions, northern and southern. Northern Ireland, consisting of the six northern-most counties, chose to remain under British rule while Southern Ireland, the remaining twenty-six counties, chose to move away, to become an Irish Free State. This was finalized in 1948 when Southern Ireland became the Republic o' Ireland and severed all ties with the British Empire."
"So the problems are in No
rthern Ireland?" CJ said. "The Catholics want to become part of the Republic of Ireland, too, and the, what, non-Catholics don't?"
"Protestants. Unfortunately, that is how it is perceived. Actually it is the Unionists verses the Nationalists. Since the majority o' Unionists are Protestant and vice-a-versa for the Nationalists, our wonderful press has turned it into a Protestant versus Catholic thing. Ones religion really has nothing to do with it."
"Am I to assume that you are not Catholic, however you do support the Nationalists?"
"You assume correctly. I would be in favor o' falling away from British rule, but not at the cost o' lives on any side o' the issue."
"So," CJ said, "all these organizations, IRA, PIRA and UIRA, are Nationalists."
"Those and a few other smaller ones, aye."
"The goals are to end British rule."
"Aye, some by peaceful means and others via violence."
"UIRA?" CJ said. "By what means are they using?"
"I think they walk the line." Paddy turned an expectant look onto his sister.
"I..." She wiped at her eyes with a Kleenex. "I didn't think they were violent. But you think they killed Doug?" she said to CJ.
"Yes I do. Who was following me, and why?"
"I don't know."
"You must know something. After all, you warned me. Average folk don't generally pick up on tails. They aren't that aware or that suspicious. Why were you suspicious enough to have seen them?"
"When Doug returned from Ireland this last time, he told me there had been some things going on."
"Like what?"
"I don't know. He didn't say, but every time we went somewhere together he was concerned about being followed. One time he actually pointed out two men. I didn't know what to think."
"And you apparently spotted them this afternoon."
"One of them, yes."
"In the hotel wearing an Hawaiian shirt."
"Yes."
"You didn't ask Douglas why he was being followed?"
"Of course I did. He brushed it off as having something to do with his work."
"His work. What exactly did he do?"
"He was a beer import and distribution specialist."
CJ looked between her and Paddy for a couple of seconds. "He sold beer?"
"Yes."
"He must have done fairly well at it."
"He had clients from Miami to Savannah and handled imports primarily from Ireland, though some from Scotland and Germany. It paid the bills."
"What do you do?" CJ asked her.
"What do I do?" she asked as though not understanding the question.
"Job. What kind of employment do you have?"
"Oh! I keep the books for Paddy and sometimes wait tables."
CJ turned to Paddy. "You have quite a family business going. Wife, daughter and sister?"
Paddy smiled. "I never told you that my wife and daughter work here. How did you figure that out?"
"Simple observation. The big question is, who did Doug think was following him? I doubt it had anything to do with his work. Corporate spies in the beer business would be after secret recipes, new product developments or trying to steal customers. They certainly wouldn't be following around a beer salesman, nor would they have any interest in a private eye after their charge is dead."
"You said that you thought UIRA had something to do with it," Rebecca said. "Do you think that someone found out Doug was an informant and killed him?"
"Or had him killed. It's a theory, nothing more at this point. It could also be someone from the other side, the Unionists."
Paddy shook his head. "The Unionists aren't violent. I can't see that happening."
"There must be some resistance to UIRA. If Doug was perceived to be involved in something, there certainly could be motive to eliminate him."
"I see what you're saying," Paddy said.
CJ looked up at the ceiling for a few seconds and then said, "But I doubt it."
"You just said it was a possibility."
"I did, except everything seemed to go haywire after Douglas met with me, which was the morning after I was intercepted by the FBI which was the evening after I met with you. Between you and the FBI, I talked to no one, thus either you called them or you called someone else who called them."
The siblings looked at each other and then Rebecca said, "He called me. I called nobody. I didn't even know about Doug's involvement with the FBI until I learned it from you a few hours ago."
"But you still told someone that I was in town looking for your husband?"
"No one."
"No one? Not even your husband or your mother-in-law?"
"Well, yeah. I told them."
"When?"
"Doug last night, but I didn't tell Eveleen until this morning, after Doug was killed. It was she who wanted to visit you in your hotel room."
"Did you tell Doug in person or on the phone?"
"In person. I told you, I did not call anyone after Paddy called me."
"Did Doug call anyone last night?"
Rebecca considered the question for a few seconds and then said, "No. We were together until we went to bed about 11:00. He never made a phone call."
"What did he say when you told him I was looking for him?"
"He didn't say much, only that it probably had something to do with his ex-wife."
"You weren't curious?"
"Of course I was curious. As a matter of fact, when he didn't tell me anything more, I got pissed off. When I get pissed off he gets quiet, which pisses me off even more. We watched TV last night in silence and then went to bed in silence. He left earlier than usual this morning, didn't even wake me up to kiss me goodbye." She bit on her lip. "Now he's dead."
CJ watched the pain in her face and then said to Paddy, "So you didn't tell your sister why I was here."
Paddy shook his head. "Their marriage is their business. All I told her was that you were a private investigator from Arizona and that you were staying at the Hilton. I knew something was about to hit the fan. I wasn't about to do any of the slinging."
"And you didn't call anyone else after you spoke to your sister?"
"No."
"Who else did you tell?"
"No one."
"Not your wife or daughter?"
"I said I told no one. I didn't talk to anyone else about you or Doug until I heard from Becca this morning that he had been killed."
CJ turned his head to Rebecca. "It seems that your phone has been bugged."
Her eyes got big. "By whom?"
"I would say, by whomever has been keeping an eye on Douglas, someone from UIRA."
"Why wouldn't the FBI have a bug on his phone?" Paddy said.
"It's reasonable that they would have, however, I don't know how they operate with a deep undercover. When you called your sister, did you call her house phone or cell phone?"
"He called my cell phone," Rebecca said. "We don't have a house phone. Doug and I each had a cell phone."
"If the FBI tapped a phone, it likely would have been Doug's, not yours, and it would have been with Doug's knowledge seeing as he was working with them. It had to have been the UIRA who was listening in on your phone, Rebecca, or on yours, Paddy. Maybe both."
"Mine!" Paddy appeared surprised, and disturbed, by that prospect. "I don't have anything to do with the UIRA, for or against. What reason would they have to be paying attention to me? I simply have a small, struggling business here. I don't play any of their political games."
"They may not see it that way, Paddy. You're part of Douglas' extended family. If they have been questioning his loyalty to the extent that they started tailing him, physically or electronically, then everyone in his family falls under the suspect list. They might start thinking that Paddy's Irish Pub is a front for anti-UIRA activity. If they'd been suspecting that Douglas was other than he said he was and could trace that back to you and then back to your cousin in Indiana and Douglas' other wife, other family, then k
eeping at least a tab on you would only be logical."
Paddy dropped his chin to his chest and closed his eyes.
"I'd be willing to bet that as soon as they lost me over at the parking garage, discovered that I was not actually in the bank they watched me go into, that at least one of them came here. Can you get Hannah back in here?"
"Certainly." Paddy stood and walked out.
While they waited, CJ said to Rebecca, "Douglas wasn't happy about becoming a father, was he?"
She shook her head and looked down at her hands. "I only just told him a few days ago."
"You're showing. How could he have not known?"
"He'd been gone for two months. I knew before he left, but I was scared to tell him. I wanted this child, was scared that he'd try to talk me into an abortion."
"So you knew he didn't want kids."
"Yes, I knew, but I didn't know why? Maybe I had some silly notion that once I was pregnant, he'd change his mind."
"He didn't change his mind."
"No."
"You fought about it."
"Yes."
"He'd been home for what, two days and you had two fights."
"Three days. Yes."
Paddy returned with Hannah.
"Hannah," CJ said. "After you escorted me back here, did a single man come in, look around and then immediately leave?"
Hannah's eyebrows went up. "Aye. Just a few minutes ago."
"What kind of shirt was he wearing?"
"An oversized Hawaiian shirt. Red."
"Thanks."
When CJ didn't say anything else, Hannah looked between her father and her aunt and then returned to her duties.
"So," CJ said. "When they lost me, this was the first place they thought to look. Curious, wouldn't you say?"
Paddy didn't look happy.
CJ leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Douglas had been concerned about being watched, so this may not have been spontaneous, that is his death may have been only a matter of time. Maybe they suspected there was a plant, or a mole, but weren't sure who. Maybe they had several suspects and were watching all of them, waiting until one made a mistake. Coming to see me may have been Doug's mistake, however, I only just showed up yesterday so this person or persons were able to think on the fly, form a conclusion and then grab an opportunity when it was presented to them... in other words, me."
Sailing into Death (CJ Washburn, PI Book 2) Page 7