Then the taller one took a calculated look at me, then Finn, and said to him, “Have you seen Gwen yet? She’d so love to see you!” She placed a little hand on his arm while I tried hard not to punch her in the face.
I turned to Miles. “This is fun, isn’t it?”
Poor Finn was the color of a chili pepper. “No, I haven’t seen Gwen. I’m on a work assignment.”
Agnes, the one who had put her hand on his arm, now patted it like he was a little puppy. A puppy who wasn’t quite right in the head. “Oh right. Of course. You’re on assignment.”
He got up. “All right. That’s enough. Nice to see you ladies. We’ll be on our way.” With that, Miles and I quickly grabbed our coats and scooted along with Finn.
“What was that all about?” I asked, still buttoning up my coat as we briskly walked down the block.
“That was Gwen’s little . . . entourage.”
“They looked like mannequins,” I blurted.
Finn abruptly stopped and slowly turned his face to me. He blew out the smoke from his cigarette and tilted his hat up on his head, just looking at me.
“What?” I asked.
His face cleared and suddenly he started to laugh. I smiled as Miles caught Finn’s laughter. “My God, they really do,” Finn uttered as he rubbed his forehead, chuckling, easing his obvious headache and clearing his mind. “Leave it to you.” We started walking again.
“What did Agnes mean, with the comment about you being on assignment? It was like she didn’t believe you,” I said.
I noticed Miles squinting at Finn, trying to assess him as Finn replied, “She definitely didn’t believe me. Let’s just say when I moved to the States, I didn’t leave here on an auspicious note. To say the least.”
Just then a beggar in a particularly dire situation, with his pants ripped and his face almost unrecognizable from grime, came into our view. Finn saw him, and I watched as he walked over to the man, said a few words, and gave him a rather large bill. Finn’s kindness was one of his finest attributes. Once when I had stalked—I mean, followed—him, I saw him reach out to a young street urchin when others had just swatted him away. Kindness to those who have no hope of giving something in return is just about the most admirably telling thing you can witness in another person.
Finn walked back over to us as we continued on. “Did you know that man, Finn?” I asked.
“No.”
“What did you tell him?”
“Oh, I just told him about a little church up ahead. They give meals and a safe place to stay when there’s room.”
“Damn, you’re sexy,” I said.
Miles barked out a laugh.
“You’re not so bad yourself, love,” replied Finn.
I took his arm. “All right! Shall we reconvene tomorrow, Miles?” We made plans to meet and he’d look into where we could find his friend John.
As Finn and I walked along, I admired the quaint townhouses and the streetlights that were still gas lit. London had its own personality. Even the sounds were different from New York. You could feel its age in the cobblestones in the crooked lanes, the old buildings darkened by a century of soot, and places like Westminster Abbey and the Tower of London that had been standing centuries before America even gained independence. New York was an older city in America, but still young compared to London, of course. I loved it immediately, but there was a little piece of me that missed my city.
I thought through our goals for our trip. We went on this adventure to unravel any lingering mystery about my parents and to make certain that the Red Scroll Network didn’t have a presence here. Europe had enough trouble going on and we wanted to stop any momentum they might gain in their old stomping grounds.
On top of that, I was quickly realizing Finn not only had to face his past, but we had another mystery to handle. Those two women had a profound effect on Finn. And I’d wager a hefty bet that they were up to no good.
CHAPTER 15
There’s no art to find the mind’s construction in the face.
—King Duncan, Macbeth
Miles went back to his place, Finn and I went to our hotel and freshened up. I worried about the right time to ask about Sean. I wanted to know sooner rather than later. But before dinner, we had an important appointment to keep.
The sun was down, and London became a city of gold and black. Gold gaslights that shined in the foggy darkness, top hats making coal black silhouettes on the honey-colored buildings as their wearers walked by. Cars were prominent, but the clip clop of horse hooves on cobblestones immortalized Dickens and his characters that trod these same streets.
Back at the hotel, I changed into a new favorite dress that was cranberry red. It had long flowing sleeves with a fitted sheath that flared at the knees, to which I added a wide black belt. Finn decided on a jet-black suit with a fine pinstripe, black shirt, white tie, and his favorite black fedora. We joined up and decided on martinis at the bar for luck.
We clinked glasses and as I took a hearty sip, I sized him up, trying to read him. Trying to see any telltale signs of how London was making him feel, and if those two weirdos had any lingering effects. How could they not? There was something off about them.
“What are you thinking about, Finn?”
“Actually, I’m thinking of Voodoo Macbeth.”
“Mmm.” I nodded. That play had deeply affected him and I thought it intriguing that the memory cropped up in his thoughts at this particular moment. “What about exactly?”
“I liked how Welles made the jungle background so dark. So tangled. That struggle with power and how far to go . . . it needed a backdrop that was tricky to get through. Genius, really.”
“Seems like that’s been on your mind a lot lately,” I commented as I ate my third olive.
“Yeah. Yeah, it has. The power. The desire. The curse.”
“Do you want to tell me about Sean?”
He looked at me, his gray-green eyes serious, sparking with intelligence and a love of adventure. But before he could answer, Finn suddenly became perfectly still. Like a lion on the hunt. Or perhaps a gazelle that suddenly spots the lion lying in wait . . . his eyes looked over my shoulder and I followed his gaze, turning around on my stool.
A strawberry blond, petite woman in a perfectly neat navy-blue suit and matching overcoat was at the door, looking at Finn. My eyes scoured her from head to toe, knowing it could only be one person. Gwen.
When Finn had lived here, before Sean’s betrayal, he’d been friends with Gwen and at one point had more significant feelings for her. When Sean proposed to her, Finn had tried to talk with her about Sean’s devious nature, but Gwen didn’t believe him and went along with the wedding. I’d wrestled with jealousy when he’d been in London a few months ago, but I knew beyond a doubt where his heart really was. That didn’t mean I had to like her.
I motioned to the bartender for another martini.
Before she made her way over, I caught Finn’s eye and smiled. “You got this, Finn? You okay?”
He leveled his eyes at me and smiled that crooked smile that reached his eyes and my heart. “Definitely, love.”
“Cheers, buddy. This is gonna be fun.”
He almost spit out his martini as he’d tipped back to get the last drops. He laughed as Gwen approached.
“Finn! I heard from Vivian that you were staying here, I hoped I’d find you. Sorry to interrupt,” she said, nodding to me. Her urgent tone precluded us from making official introductions.
“What’s wrong, Gwen?” said Finn, his face clouding over.
She exhaled. “It’s your father. He’s very ill. If you want to see him, before . . .” She stumbled on her words, then stopped. “You’d better come now.”
Finn nodded. “Gwen Brodie, this is Lane Sanders; Lane, this is Gwen. Can you give us a moment, Gwen?”
“Of course.” She walked back toward the door and paused, her tiny hands on the purse that matched her coat. And hat. And shoes.
�
��What do you think?” I asked Finn.
Finn blew out a breath. “I haven’t seen my parents since the . . . accident. I don’t know. They disowned me and I haven’t looked back.” He looked at his empty glass, memories flooding through his mind. Both good and bad, I’m sure. I laid my hand on his.
“Whatever you want to do, I’ll do it with you.”
Finn nodded and we walked out with Gwen. But my senses were on alert; there was something fishy about her. When she said that Finn’s father was ill, her eyes darted back and forth like she was thinking of what word to use. I didn’t trust her as far as I could throw her. Well, actually, even less than that, because I was pretty sure I could toss her ass pretty darn far.
Finn was savvy, intelligent, thoughtful. But I worried that he’d walk right into a trap of sorts. I learned the hard way that sometimes we could have blind spots when family was concerned. I was definitely wishing we’d had a chance to go over his entire story about Sean. I felt that I was going to need to know every single detail so that I’d truly understand just what this family of his was capable of.
We took a cab to a local hospital near the home of Polly and Richard Brodie, Finn’s parents. The drive was awkward with me being sandwiched between Finn and Gwen. I leaned into Finn, trying to not touch Gwen and her perfectly matching ensemble. For now, we’d have to put our previous plans for the evening on hold.
As we walked into the bustling hospital, Finn asked Gwen, “Is Sean here?” That’s what I was certainly wondering.
She looked at the delicate silver watch on her slim wrist. “Uh . . . let’s see. Not right now. He’ll be coming by around eight o’clock.” Finn exhaled in relief. I was still holding mine.
We went up to his father’s room after checking in with a nurse. He’d been having heart trouble and was losing weight rapidly. There was nothing to be done other than make him comfortable. We arrived at his room when a tall, slender woman in her late fifties walked out. It had to be Finn’s mother, she had his coloring to a tee with her dark brown hair, fair skin, and greenish eyes. But where they differed was that indescribable quality that makes someone’s eyes sparkle. With all the possible responses I imagined a mother could make in seeing her long-lost son, I didn’t expect this: indifference.
“Hello, Finn. I wondered if you’d show up. He’s in there.” Yikes. Finn had more imagination and friendliness in his little finger than what she showed in her entire countenance. She was a woman who blended in; everything was just one shade too dark or too light to be of notice. Her suit was gray, or was it blue? Her eyes were lighter than Finn’s, a watery gray-green. Her mousy brown hair was a faded brown, with no shine, no luster.
I shot my eyes to Finn. I might have growled a little, because his eyes gave me a sort of warning look, but there was amusement right behind it, too.
He didn’t even have time to introduce me to Polly before she shuffled off down the hall. Even her gait was lukewarm, neither striding with deliberate confidence nor slowly ambling with contemplation. I looked at Finn quizzically.
He said decisively, in complete contrast to her blandness, “Let’s go in.”
“Are you sure you want me to come, too?” I asked.
“Absolutely.” He took my hand and in we went.
His father was lying flat on his back, his eyes glassed over and looking at nothing. He had the look of someone formerly robust, but weight loss and pain had left him shrunken. Though his eyes looked somewhere I couldn’t see, his jaw was set with belligerence and his face pinched with many years practicing disappointment. Finn glanced at me with an are you okay? expression and I realized I’d been crinkling my nose in distaste. I cleared my face and nodded.
“Hello, Father.”
A blink was the only expression that told us he might have heard Finn. And I didn’t think it was from the illness. This was deliberate.
Finn took a breath, and said, “I just wanted to come to see you. I’m sorry you’re ill.” He let the silence fill the room, giving his father time to decide if he was going to respond. He chose not to. He didn’t so much as clench his jaw.
After a pregnant pause, Finn said, “All right, Father. I’ll let you be. Good-bye.”
I stole a glance toward the door, where Gwen had stepped into the room. Just as she caught my eye, she quickly covered over the small smile that had been plastered over her face. I tried to look like I hadn’t caught that oddly timed smile, thinking that it might be better to not let the little viper see anything that might threaten her. I gave her a little oh well, I guess we tried kind of look and shrug. Then I mouthed to her, Maybe we should go. She nodded.
I took Finn’s hand and we left.
We parted ways with Gwen outside the hospital. Oh darn. I was starving, so I suggested we go grab something to eat. Finn wasn’t always extremely talkative, but he was understandably quieter than usual as we located a little restaurant nearby.
After a few bites of bread as well as a few sips of dark red wine, he was ready to talk.
“Well, that went well,” he said dryly.
“Splendid. Both your parents were a little too exuberant. Polly and Richard really need to learn to quench their enthusiasm a bit,” I said, eyes rolling.
“It’s pretty much what I expected. And you know what? Let’s order. Then it’s high time I tell you everything about Sean.”
I took another big swig of my wine and replenished our glasses while Finn ordered our choices. Then he began a careful account of that terrible day when his own brother betrayed him and cut him to the core.
CHAPTER 16
There’s daggers in men’s smiles.
—Donalbain, King Duncan’s son, Macbeth
The sun had been high in the sky that Saturday afternoon, the temperature surprisingly warm for a spring day in Kiernan, a small town about an hour outside of Dublin. The manor house was filled with guests and merriment was in the air. Multiple fireplaces were burning inside for the atmosphere they created and white tables with deep blue runners dotted the lawn, laden with drinks and delicious food. People spilled all over the place inside and out, chatting, happily bickering, telling jokes, and shaking hands in greeting.
All were cheerful and jubilant except the two men upstairs, the two brothers, the last of the family to come down and join in. Sean, the slightly taller, younger one, was tying his tie at the long mirror; his smile broad, his dark hair shining, and every single hair perfectly placed. But his broad smile belied something dark and ugly. The tilt of his brow made him look like nothing surprised him, his lips were red and easily told charming lies. His bright green eyes restless and on the hunt for opportunity. He was a hungry man with an appetite that was never satiated.
Finn, also dark-haired and tall, just an inch or so shorter, was standing at the window looking out at the festive crowd. Concern etched a dark crease upon his forehead. He said, “Sean, are . . . are you sure you want to go through with this?”
Sean’s face twisted and he flung himself around, growling, “What the hell do you mean by that, Finn?” His fists were flexing, ever-ready for a fight. “You always doubt me. Are you really going to do this on this day?” he snapped through gritted teeth. His countenance would have inspired fear from a lesser man, but Finn had seen this face a thousand times.
“No, Sean. I don’t doubt your abilities, I never have. This is just a very important day, a life-changing decision. I want you to be happy. I’m just asking.” And he meant it. But Sean would never truly understand that. Sean was never wrong and always envious. He looked at people through distant eyes that only saw utility, valuable only if personal gain was possible.
His brother shook his head and with half-closed eyes said, “I don’t believe you. You’re filled with jealousy that it’s me and not you. You can’t get over that fact. Well, after tonight you’ll just have to, now won’t you?”
“What do you mean, Sean?” Sean blinked a couple of times and looked like maybe he’d misspoken. If only Finn had caught that loo
k flashing across his face and done something—anything—things could have turned out so differently. But how could he have ever guessed?
“Bah. Never mind. Are you going to come down with me or not?” he growled.
“Of course. You look wonderful, Sean. Let’s go.”
The two brothers went downstairs, found their parents, and filed out to the lawn. The guests were settled into their seats and the brothers walked down the aisle to the front where the priest stood, looking staunch and ancient. The bagpipes began the traditional bridal march and Gwen came down the aisle shining.
Perhaps Sean had been partially right, Finn thought. Maybe he was a little jealous. He stole a glance at his brother. Maybe he’d been harsh asking him if he really wanted to go through with it. But then, there it was again. That look, a smile when the bride looked away. That smile was . . . treacherous. It was the same smile when Sean would knowingly lie to their parents or blame Finn for his own escapades. But he had done all he could, right? Talked with both of them as much as he dared. They were two grown adults, the parents all approved of the marriage . . .
The ceremony moved quickly along and before he knew it, Sean and Gwen were married. It was a done deal for better or worse. The pictures afterward were a nightmare, pretending to be happy when he had a clenching pit in his stomach. The worst was the photograph of him shaking his brother’s hand. Luckily, Finn was always able to master his countenance. But damn, it was hard.
The party afterward had its fun moments, but it was far too long for him. He’d tried to talk with his parents, about having to leave the next day for his new job out of the country. They knew he was leaving but they just hadn’t had time to talk, to really talk in quite a while.
He had been closer with both parents when he was younger. But the last few years, their relationship had grown strained. He had tried to ask them about it, but they both dismissed it as something that all children feel as they pass into adulthood and independence. It was nothing. But he could never shake the feeling that it was most definitely something.
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