by Rick Blechta
“Easy! The combo is her birthday!”
As the cop wrote something in his notebook, Shannon looked across to where I stood leaning against a counter. The expression on her face screamed her guilt.
Both children were dealt with pretty quickly and hustled off to bed. Robbie, true to form, asked if he’d be able to stay home from school the following day.
“We’ll see,” his mom replied, using the standard parental answer since the dawn of time.
There was a brief family hug before Grams ushered them out.
“There’s going to be hell to pay for this, Shan,” the old cop said with a sigh, “and there’s not a lot I can do to shield you. Have you called their father yet?”
Shannon squeezed her eyes shut. “No, Burt. Guess I better get the inevitable over with. Do you mind if I do it in another room?”
He waved her out then fixed me with a steely gaze. “Come over here and sit down, please.”
I did, and he began firing questions at me. Even though he took notes, a tape recorder backed up everything I told him.
Partway through, Shannon, looking pretty grim, slipped back into the room.
“He’s catching the first plane in the morning,” she reported.
“That will be good for you and the kids,” Burt answered.
Her expression made it clear this was far from the case. She again left the room, since Burt wanted us to make separate statements.
Neither of us got to bed until well after five a.m. You’d have thought we were the guilty ones the way they questioned us.
***
I kept to my room the next morning, figuring it was best if I stayed away from the family in whose midst I’d thrown such a spanner. Out front, I could see about two dozen cars and broadcast trucks lining the road outside the farm. A police car blocked the long drive, keeping the media away. From the clock radio by the bed, I already knew we were the top story. I pulled the shade down again and dropped onto the bed with a sigh. Trapped for the moment.
Around eleven, there was a soft tap on my door: Shannon with a steaming mug of tea.
“Oh, you’re already up and dressed,” she said, handing it to me.
Her hair was wet and her skin freshly scrubbed, but the circles under her eyes were deep and large.
“I never really fell asleep.”
“Why didn’t you come downstairs?”
“Not a good idea. I’ve caused enough problems here.”
“Nonsense! Are you hungry?”
“Well...”
“Then come and have some breakfast. Mom’s making pancakesand sausages for everyone.”
“I’d rather not.”
“Fine!” she said angrily with her hand on the doorknob. “Have it your way.”
She slammed the door but returned a little later with a tray of food. “Eat this. And you were right about coming downstairs. You should have seen my mother’s expression when I told her this food was for you.”
Just after two, I became aware of raised voices in the living room. Shannon’s was one, but the other I didn’t recognize. The Ex must have arrived.
The argument went on for over twenty minutes, before three more voices joined in, and things calmed down a bit. It took all my selfcontrol not to eavesdrop from the top of the stairs. The only raised voice now was Shannon’s, and it was obvious she was very upset.
Shortly after, I was using the bathroom when I saw the children exit the house with two men and a woman. Robbie, crying and struggling, was being held by the larger of the two men, and the woman had Rachel by the hand. They got into a minivan with a lot of backwards glances and started down the driveway, preceeded and followed by police cars. At the end of the drive, the front two cars sped off south, while the rear police car blocked the road, preventing the press from giving chase.
I went downstairs and found Shannon and her mum clinging to each other, both crying their hearts out. Pulling back out of the kitchen doorway without being seen, I returned to my room.
An hour or so later, Shannon tapped lightly on the door again. I was at the window, staring out at the cars (their numbers just kept increasing), wondering how I was ever going to get away from there. I cannot express the depth of my depression.
“My children are gone,” she said simply, then sat down on the bed as if her legs had been kicked out from under her.
“What happened?”
Shannon stayed silent for a good two minutes. “My ex-husband, that’s what! You no doubt heard us arguing in the living room. He’s livid that I’d put his children in such danger, and that I’d been so careless with my gun. At the same time, he was boasting how it was his training Robbie how to shoot that saved everyone’s lives. His sanctimonious attitude makes me want to retch. He hardly even bothers to call the kids any more.
“To hear him talk, everything is my fault! Problem for me is, he got the right people to agree with him, and now he’s been awarded temporary custody. He came here with Children’s Aid in tow. Couldn’t be bothered to discuss this with me first. Just, ‘Here’s the order. Tell the kids to get their things. They’re coming with me.’ Bastard!”
I started to speak, to apologize yet again, but Shannon shook her head. “I know damn well what you’re going to say. This was not your fault. I invited you here, and if anyone is to blame, it’s me. I just figured they wouldn’t be able to find you out here.”
“I’ve spent a good part of the day thinking about just that,” I answered, “and I’ve only been able to come up with one solution, one I don’t like very much.”
She wiped her eyes with her hands and swivelled to face me. “Tell me, Michael. I need to know.”
“Do you think it’s coincidence they showed up last night? Yesterday afternoon I had something delivered by my employee of longest standing, and—”
“Michael! You really don’t think Kevin told them where you were?”
“Can you think of any other way they found out? You’ve told me that you took every precaution coming and going from here, and I trust your ability to suss out a tail. I haven’t been off the property, and heaven knows I’ve been careful when I spoke to anyone on my cell. So that leaves only one answer.”
Shannon’s face grew hard. “He’s going to suffer.”
“Yes.”
***
Since it was a pretty well an open and shut case, the cops were out of there by late afternoon. Before he’d finally gone off duty, Burt had arranged for some of his men to stay on the property to keep the curious and the media away. I finally came downstairs to watch the evening news. The events at Shannon’s farmhouse got the full treatment. Burt had held a news conference sometime during the day at the end of the driveway. Apparently someone had blabbed, so everyone knew a child had shot a man to protect his mother and sister. The media wanted answers, and the cops decided to give them enough to satisfy them.
One reporter, however, had done more digging, and consequently Burt had to field questions about me and the murder investigation in Scotland.
“Michael Quinn, the musician, was involved in what happened here last night. We’ve also been in contact with the Scottish Police, yes,” he’d admitted, “but whether there is any connection to our case, I really can’t say at this time.”
“Can’t say, or won’t say?” a reporter asked.
Burt had smiled grimly. “Boys, make up the answer. You do that nine times out of ten anyway. No more questions.”
With that he turned and started back up the drive. The camera followed him for the longest time, while the newsreader talked about me and what was known about my current troubles.
“Well, this just gets better and better,” I observed glumly.
Mrs. Cathcart was standing in the doorway to the kitchen. Our eyes locked, but hers looked at me i n a more kindly way than I’d seen. “I’ve made beef stew for dinner. I think we all could use something in our bellies.”
It was a good meal, and for a while we almost forgot our troubles. Mrs.
Cathcart produced a bottle of very acceptable claret. Apple cobbler finished off the meal.
Shannon disappeared into the basement and came up with a dusty bottle of cognac, which she put on the table. The label said 1965. I raised my eyebrows in Shannon’s direction.
“Tonight is the night for this,” she said sourly.
“What’s the significance?”
Her mother answered. “It was the last anniversary present Shannon’s damned husband gave her. 1965 was the year she was born.” She smiled at her daughter. “I thought you’d forgotten about it.”
Shannon was getting out three snifters. “Not forgotten. I just haven’t had the heart to open it up before.”
Before we could pour it, though, the phone rang. Mrs. Cathcart answered with a scowl, but that quickly changed to a broad smile. “Of course I will, child! Your fish are going to be so fat and sassy when you get home that you won’t recognize them. Yes, she is. I’ll put her on.”
Shannon took the phone eagerly and immediately left the room.
“This is going to be very hard on her,” Mrs. Cathcart observed.
“I know, and I want you to know that I blame—”
“Blame no one but Robert O’Brien! This isn’t about keeping two
children safe; this is about hurting my daughter.”
“How can I make this better? I’ll do anything.”
She looked at me levelly. “Leave as soon as you can. Give my daughter a chance to put her life back together.”
Said daughter came back into the room with fire in her eyes. She had the cognac bottle open in short order, poured three generous portions and downed hers in two gulps. No savouring of the subtle tastes and fragrances. That bottle had to be worth several hundred dollars.
“He’s got them back in New York already! I didn’t think he’d be able to get them out of the country so fast.”
“Shannon! Simmer down!” her mother said. “You’re doing yourself no good. Tomorrow, you contact that lawyer who handled your divorce, and she’ll tell you what you need to do.”
Her hot-headed daughter wasn’t having any of it, though. She poured more cognac into her snifter, then stomped out of the room.
We listened to her rapid ascent of the stairs.
Mum picked up her cognac, swirled the liquid, then put it down.
“She’s always been pigheaded...”
***
My aggression comes out when I’m behind the wheel. Not that I drive like a churl, giving everyone who gets in my way a one-fingered salute. I just drive fast. And I have a string of tickets over the years to prove it.
Shannon, who had told me she was too distracted to drive, sat next to me, arms tightly crossed, her mood not improved from the previous evening. “You don’t need to set any speed records getting us there, you know.”
I shrugged but kept driving the way I wanted to. Shannon’s SUV had a lot of pep, and we made it to the shop in damn good time.
“I want to get this over with,” I said as we got out of the car.
Kevin and Hamed (now off movie duty) were in the cramped entry room, morning coffee in their hands. Loud sounds from the warehouse showed that Johnny was out there checking an amp.
“Hey, boss,” Hamed exclaimed, a broad smile splitting his face, “didn’t think we’d see you out here today. Man, that was some crazy scary thing to have happen!” He stood and shook my hand. “We’re all glad you’re okay.”
“All of you?” I asked, staring hard at Kevin, who went quite pale.
Shannon was actually pushing at me, eager to get at the punk who’d put her kids in such horrible danger. I stayed firmly in her way.
“Hamed, would you go and get us some decent coffees? Get a box of Timbits, too,” I said as I peeled off a twenty. “Take Johnny with you. All right?”
“Sure, boss,” he replied, looking puzzled. “Anything you say.”
As soon as they were out the door, I turned to Kevin. “I certainly hope they gave you a lot of money for what you did.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Two days ago, you told someone where they could find me.”
“Are you kidding? Why the hell would I do something like that?”
“That’s just what I’ve been asking myself.” I shook my head sadly. “You almost got us killed.”
“And my two kids!” Shannon snarled over my shoulder.
The idiot actually tried to bluster his way out of it. “I don’t have to take this shit! You’re both crazy if you think I had anything to do with that British jerk and his two bastard friends!”
The look on his face when he realized what he’d just admitted was comical in a very sad way. None of the news reports had come close to mentioning anything like that.
Kevin drew himself up. “I’m leaving, and you can’t do anything to stop me. I know my rights!”
Shannon had heard enough. She pasted him with a hard left jab to the side of his head, then a right hook to the jaw. Kevin fell back, knocking his chair over, out cold.
We looked down at him in disgust. “You have the right to remain silent,” she said with a grim laugh as she picked up the phone to dial the police.
While waiting for the arrival of the coppers, she shook out both hands. “That was a dumb thing to do. Contrary to what you see in the movies, your hands really take a beating in a fight. Mine are going to look and feel like hell in a few hours.
“I guess you shouldn’t have hit him, then.”
“You’re probably right.” Then she grinned for the first time in two days. “But it felt damned good!”
***
When we finally headed back to the farm early in the evening, Shannon had lost whatever bounce she’d got from decking Kevin. The news from her lawyer had not been good. Getting the court order overturned would take time, and because of what had happened, any judge hearing the case would take a very dim view of Shannon’s suitability as a parent. Of course, that was ridiculous, but at the moment her husband held all the cards.
The cops had been more than happy to hear what my former employee had to say. They wouldn’t tell Shannon much, but she did find out that I’d been sold out for the obligatory thirty pieces of silver. Kevin claimed they’d told him they only wanted to scare me a little so I’d cough up some money I owed them. He had been the person I’d always left in charge when I was gone, and I felt horribly betrayed.
I’d spent the rest of the day trying to organize everything as best I could during my absence in the UK . I’d have to rely on only two employees, and business was certainly going to suffer. Once Hamed and Johnny got over their shock at Kevin’s arrest as an accessory, they began to fill me in on the way he used to complain about me, cut out early and loan instruments to his friends at no charge. I felt a bit of a fool, because I’d never cottoned on to any of it.
“He was certainly upset when you gave Hamed that movie shoot,” Johnny said.
“They asked for Hamed specifically!”
Both had also claimed they’d be ready to handle anything. I had my doubts , but hiring someone new as I was about to leave the country did not seem like a wise idea. I put Hamed in charge, wrote out a long list of instructions and gave them both healthy raises in recognition of the tough slog ahead.
“I spoke to Burt late this morning,” Shannon said as we waded through the usual rush hour tie-up around the airport. She still didn’t want to drive.“They caught up with Blondie trying to hitch a ride into town after crossing two concession roads, and he’s going to cut a deal with the crown. Your DCI Campbell is sending someone over to question Martin Bradley.”
“When will that happen?”
“No one can talk to the suspect at the moment. The man’s doctor says his patient is not in any condition to be questioned. The local cops are pretty frustrated about that. The interesting thing is that someone was quick to pay for first class legal help. He’s got the best sleazeball lawyer in town.”
“Interesting. Does anyone have
any idea who’s paying?”
“Lawyers don’t admit that sort of thing.”
Traffic ground to a halt again, and I looked over at my passenger. “How are you doing?”
Shannon shook her head. “I’m still trying to get past blaming myself.”
“Me too.”
“The worst thing is that Rob has uprooted those kids at the wrong time. They’re going to get put in a new school in a new country, and they’re both pretty damaged right now. Their dad says he’s going to get them counselling, but I wonder if he’ll follow through. It’s obvious he’s very proud of his son for doing what he did.”
“Your helping me has turned into such a nightmare for your family. I am so sorry for it.”
I don’t think she even heard me.
“I miss the kids—even the fighting,” she sighed, then turned away, a clear sign that a few more tears were being quietly shed.
About ten minutes later, Shannon’s cell rang. She didn’t say much other than “uh-ha” and “yes,” then finished with, “Yeah, well, thanks for letting me know.” Flipping her cell closed, she sat looking at it for a few seconds before speaking. “Someone got to Blondie in the slammer. He’s dead. Knife in the back. No witnesses, and I doubt if they’ll find any. Well, that was fast work.”
The penny dropped. “That means there’s someone else around, someone out to clean up this mess.”
“Yup. And we’re right back where we started.”
At that point, we were finally passing the airport. One of the really big planes thundered off into the night overhead.
“So when do you leave for the UK ?” Shannon asked neutrally.
“Soon as I can. You don’t need me underfoot right now, and I think the farther I am away from here, the better it will be for all involved.”
“Care for some company?”
I was momentarily nonplussed. “What do you mean?”
“Michael...” she started, then stopped. “Michael, if there’s still someone around that could cause trouble, then I can’t bring my children home, even if I can convince a judge to let me. The only way to get my life back to normal, both our lives back to normal, is to find that damned girl. And in that regard, the only lead we have right now is in Birmingham. That’s where she jumped into your car. Why was she really there? She told you she was staying in a B & B . Do you believe it?”