“I’m sorry, Georgina, but if you can help us understand what happened. Do you have any idea what’s made you sick?”
“I don’t know for sure. Meatballs...”
“We found the painting and another sketch at the Sharpe offices,” Emma said. “Did you put them there?”
“No... I don’t know who...oh, God, I feel awful...”
She started to sit up, and Henrietta eased in next to her and got her by the right arm. “Let’s sit still, shall we? The ambulance will be here soon. Are those sketches your work, Georgina?”
“No...no...or my dad’s.”
Her face twisted in pain and she lurched to one side, away from Henrietta, and vomited, finally sinking back into the grass, not unconscious but unable to communicate.
“I need to go,” Emma said. “Can you—”
“Father Bracken and I will see to Georgina.” Henrietta looked up. “Find Jeremy. Take Oliver with you. He knows the poison mythology lingo if you need it.”
“If Hornsby returns, Henrietta, don’t confront him until we have more information about what’s going on here.”
“Don’t worry,” Henrietta said. “I can handle him.”
Emma looked at Oliver. He gave a curt nod, and started for her car. Finian Bracken and Franny Maroney were walking toward them. Franny looked fine. “Go, Emma,” she said.
Kevin pulled up in his truck. “Hurley’s is being evacuated. There’s a fire. Arson. I’m on my way. A witness at the marina saw your guy Hornsby at the Sharpe offices on Saturday morning. He walked down the porch steps and across the yard to the docks.” He paused. “Thought you’d want to know.”
“He left the rectory. We don’t know where he is.”
“Where’s Colin?”
Emma gave a tight shake of the head. “I don’t know.”
“We’ll stay in touch,” Kevin said, and rolled off.
Emma got out her phone and saw Sam Padgett had texted both her and Colin: Call me. Now.
Oliver was already at her car. He climbed behind the wheel. “Do your thing, Emma. I know the way.”
“The harbor—”
He nodded. “I see the smoke.”
* * *
The fire at Hurley’s started with a small explosion under the floorboards at the far side of the building, opposite the parking lot. Colin had spotted Jeremy on the docks and was a few yards away when he heard the blast. It wasn’t powerful enough to cause any serious damage—to him or to Hurley’s—but it caught that part of the building on fire.
Not an accident.
A distraction charge, Colin thought. Noisy but not meant to blow up the building or target anyone. It was an old place, and the fire would spread quickly. With the busy foliage season, the popular restaurant was crowded for a Monday. Colin spotted his brother Mike, Beth Trahan and a couple of volunteer firefighters in the process of evacuating the building. The local police and fire trucks were on the way.
They didn’t need him. He could focus on finding the person who’d set the charge, probably some kind of black powder mixture. His weapon drawn, Colin approached Jeremy, sprawled among lobster traps on the dock. A small Boston Whaler was tied up next to him.
Nick stood over him, breathing hard.
“Hands where I can see them, Nick,” Colin said.
“I caught him. Hornsby. He set the fire. He was trying to distract everyone while he escaped on the boat.”
“Hands up, Nick. Now.”
He raised both hands, a butcher knife in his left hand and a small bottle in his right hand, poised between his thumb and forefinger as if it was something special. “I’m not pointing the knife at anyone. I took it from your buddy here.”
“Put down the knife and then give me the bottle. Then we’ll sort out the rest. I’ll handle Hornsby from here, Nick.”
“Oh, no. No, no, no. Do you think I trust you? This bastard is your buddy. He’s trying to frame me. I’m getting out of here. With him. In this beat-up Boston Whaler. Whoever owns it practically left the engine running. Handy.”
“You won’t get out of the harbor.”
“I’m trying to help, Agent Donovan. You need to take care of the situation at the restaurant. All those people. Don’t think this asshole will settle for setting off one explosion when he could set off more.”
Jeremy looked terrible, sunk against the lobster pots. “Where’s Georgina?”
Nick glared at him. “You tell us, you sick son of a bitch. Did you kill her? Is she dead? You saw her last night. Did you feed her a slow-acting poison then? Or did you leave some nasty brew in her cabin?”
“She was going to meet me here...”
Colin stepped onto the dock. “Let me deal with him, Nick. Put down the knife.”
“You can’t shoot me. I’m not threatening anyone. I’m the victim here. Hornsby or whatever his name is—he fed Georgie’s dad poison mushrooms. He killed him. He poisoned everyone on Saturday, including himself. Classic misdirection. He’s slippery. He’s MI5. But you know that, don’t you? You’ll let me take the fall to protect him. I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“Nick,” Colin said, “I know about your past. I spoke to a colleague. His name’s Sam Padgett. Emma spoke to him, too. We get it. Let us help. A ton of cops are on the way. You can turn Hornsby over to any of them. Put down the knife. Give me the bottle. We’ll wait together.”
“I’m not threatening anyone. He’ll kill me if I put down the knife. He planted a vial of nerve agent somewhere in the restaurant or on the docks. He’ll tell me where it is if I get him out of here. If not, people will die.”
“What’s in the bottle, Nick?”
He held it up higher. “I took it from him. I need to get him into this boat and get out of here and let him tell me where he planted the other one. Then you can chase him to hell and back if you want to—if you aren’t as corrupt as he is. Georgina’s dad knew how to make a lot of scary shit.”
“I know that,” Colin said. “You interned for him as a young chemistry student. We want to talk to you about what happened. Hear your story.”
“Robin Masterson smuggled nerve agent out of his lab, Agent Donovan. This bastard stole it. That’s what’s in the bottles. Ask him. Even the small amount in this bottle is enough to kill hundreds of people.”
Nick was in overdrive but Colin was confident whatever was in the bottle, it wasn’t a viable, lethal nerve agent. “No one’s going to hurt you, Nick, but I need you to drop that knife.”
“Robin found out Hornsby stole the nerve agent and was using Georgina and her contacts through the Fannings to sell it on the black market.” Nick remained steady, intense, not the easygoing, good-humored yacht guy Colin had met on Saturday. “Robin kept two small, old-fashioned perfume bottles in velvet boxes in his apartment. Georgina told me. They’d belonged to her grandmother—her mother’s mother—and she wanted them. They reminded her of good times with her mother. I told her to take them while she had the chance. And she did. I had no idea...” Nick glanced at Jeremy at his feet. “This bastard found out and took advantage. That’s why he brought Georgina the painting. I thought it was all her. I really did. But it’s him.”
Jeremy tried to sit up. “Nick...for God’s sake. Do as Colin says and put down the knife before he shoots you dead. He’s not going to aim for your kneecap, and he’s not going to let you kill me. It’s done.”
“If he shoots me, the bottle breaks, and you die, anyway.”
“Most of what he just told you is bullshit, Colin,” Jeremy said.
Nick fastened his gaze on Colin. “Trust me. We’re dealing with a dangerous operative who has planted a powerful chemical weapon. Your family and friends are in profound danger.”
“This is all unraveling, Nick,” Jeremy said, hoarse, leaning on one arm. “Georgina didn’t tell you about the perfume bottles. You already kne
w about them. You knew twenty years ago. You helped Valerie Masterson steal them from Robin’s lab.”
Nick’s grip on the knife faltered slightly. Colin moved toward him, confident in his aim, in the timing. And in Jeremy, he thought. “Come on, Nick. Let’s talk. It’s time you told your story. It’s time everyone knows the truth.”
“I’m getting into this boat. I’m leaving. You can have him. He can’t hurt me. I have the nerve agent.”
“It’s perfume, Nick,” Jeremy mumbled.
Out of the corner of his eye, Colin saw Kevin eased in next to him, his weapon drawn. “Beth spotted Nick in the area of the fire before your friend got here,” Kevin said. “Marine patrol’s got the harbor covered. He’s not getting out of here.”
“I’m one of the good guys,” Nick said. “I’m telling you. You’ll see. This man is corrupt, and he’s a killer. He’s been messing with Georgina’s head, using her, making it look as if she’s crazy and obsessed with poisons and drove her father to suicide.”
Without warning, Jeremy rolled, as if he’d summoned his last shreds of energy, and surprised Nick, knocking him off balance. He hit a stack of lobster pots, and the knife flew out of his hand. Colin leaped to him, grabbed the bottle and hurled Nick onto his stomach. Kevin swooped in and cuffed him.
Jeremy collapsed onto his back and breathed out at the sky. “Sorry about that. I was starting to shiver. It’s cold on the water.”
Colin held up the bottle. “What’s actually in here?”
“As I recall, Chanel Nº 5.”
Kevin recited Nick’s Miranda rights, but he was spewing his story. He shouted obscenities at Emma and Oliver when they arrived, and then focused his tirade on Jeremy. “You’re finished. You know it and I know it.”
“Giving up on framing me, eh? Good idea.”
“You were a chemistry student, Nick,” Emma said. “You dropped out after your second year. What happened?”
“Robin Masterson ruined my life. That’s what happened. I was this kid, this eager young intern who wanted to cure diseases. A beautiful woman, a brilliant woman, decided to steal vials of a powerful chemical agent from her husband’s lab. He screwed up in letting her near them. She was dying of a brain tumor and having an affair with a handsome, young SAS soldier. The classic dangerous man.” Nick’s eyes narrowed on Jeremy. “That was you.”
Jeremy grimaced. “And you’re that cracked intern. We forgot about you. You were an incompetent kid who lost your internship because you couldn’t cut it.”
“Liar. I was expendable. The truth would have destroyed not just Valerie but her husband, and you. I got kicked to the curb. Dismissed. My career was destroyed, but I quietly went away and worked on yachts.”
“Valerie Masterson was sick but she didn’t have an affair,” Jeremy said. “And she didn’t steal nerve agent. You did, my friend.”
Nick snorted. “See? The lies continue. I never forgot the injustice I suffered. Never. Finally, I hear Robin’s daughter is a personal chef. I get her hooked up with the Fannings.”
“You saw your chance to get revenge against those who hurt you,” Emma said. “Why Georgina? She was seven when you were an intern. You drew those sketches and planted them to implicate her, make her look like she had an unhealthy fascination with poisons.”
“Why should I suffer and Robin and Valerie Masterson’s daughter not suffer?”
Colin shook his head. “You wanted Georgina to suffer because you got kicked out of an internship? Okay. You also used her to frame Hornsby, and you could have framed her if he didn’t work out.”
Nick turned away. “No matter what I did, I’d win.”
Oliver stared at him. “Who’s in cuffs, mate?”
“Who’s dead, mate?” Nick countered.
“Revenge won’t feel so sweet in time,” Oliver said. “Trust me.”
Nick looked uncomfortable, but a local officer arrived, one of John Hurley’s nieces Colin had known in high school. Kevin got Nick to his feet. “Come on. Let’s go.”
Once they left the dock, Jeremy flopped onto his back and moaned. “I’m dead this time, Colin. For sure. Bloody hell.”
“No, you’re not, but you do need medical attention.”
Jeremy shook his head, his eyes shut. “A good whiskey. I like the fresh air even if it does smell like dead fish out here. I’m glad the bottle didn’t break. God, I hate perfume.”
* * *
Beth pushed her way past the knot of law enforcement officers to check her patient, an exhausted Jeremy Pearson. Emma suspected Beth had a good idea he wasn’t an art consultant. “You need to see a doctor,” she told him. She looked up at Kevin, who’d returned after handing off Nick to the locals and the state detectives. “Anyone else injured?”
“Nope. We’re good.”
“Leaping on boats, tackling a man with a knife.”
“He dropped the knife.”
“Oh, well, there’s that. Seriously, everyone’s okay?”
Kevin nodded. “Seriously.”
Emma liked her already. Jeremy refused an ambulance. Whiskey and ice were all he needed.
Hurley’s was taped off as a crime scene. No other devices and no nerve agent had been found, and the fire damage was confined to the storage room. “A miracle it didn’t burn down,” Kevin said.
Mike Donovan joined them. “I must have threatened to torch this place a hundred times as a teenager.”
“Imagine if you hadn’t gone into the army,” Colin said.
“I’d be getting out of prison about now.”
Mike’s humor. Emma was used to it now. Kevin just shook his head. He watched Beth as she stood up, Jeremy prone on the dock, hugging a blanket to him and cursing the earth for spinning too fast when it was his head. “You heard him refuse further treatment. He’s British, I know, but he fits in with you Donovans.”
“This ‘you Donovans,’ Beth,” Kevin said. “What’s that about?”
She gaped at him. “Are you serious? Hurley’s blows up and who’s here? A man takes a sick man hostage and threatens to kill him, and who’s here?”
“We live in town.”
“Oh, so it’s a coincidence. No cause and effect at work.”
“I kind of get her point,” Mike said. “So, our villain turns out to be a guy with a butcher knife and a bottle of perfume? Lucky.”
Colin grinned at him. “Yeah. Lucky.” He squatted next to Jeremy. “Sorry your first visit to my hometown involved poison, explosions and a chemical agent threat. It’s pretty, though, isn’t it? The changing foliage against the sea.”
“I smell dead fish.”
“Better than barf,” Colin said. “Can you get up on your own and walk or do you need us Donovans to carry you?”
“Go to hell, Colin. I’d call you Donovan, but I don’t want your brothers to think I mean them. They look like good lads.”
“The knife, Jeremy. Nick could have killed you.”
“But he didn’t. Getting sick on those bloody mushrooms threw me. I didn’t think Georgina was in danger. I didn’t see it. Just was worried about her with her father sick, his state of mind given that visit with Oliver. And the painting. I wanted to give it to her in person after her father got sick.”
“Nick played the easygoing yacht guy well. He wasn’t looking to kill you on Saturday. He could have—he had the expertise, and he knew where to find a few even nastier mushrooms if he’d wanted to. He was out and about before the party. Slipped the painting and sketch onto the Sharpe back porch and sneaked a few of Georgina’s so-called sickeners.”
“She probably told him about them,” Jeremy said. “She and Robin both could go on about their mushrooms.”
“Good for them. It’s not their fault Nick did what he did.”
“He hid the painting and planted the sketches. He was after revenge—against Robin, aga
inst me, even Georgina. I had no idea. Didn’t register who he was.”
“It was a long time ago. How much can you tell Kevin?”
“I’m a mild-mannered art consultant who was nearly killed by a raging psychopath obsessed with revenge for something I didn’t do. But it doesn’t matter. Kevin knows the score.”
“Kevin’s like that.”
“Tell him whatever you want. The feisty nurse?”
“His match, I think.”
A small smile from Jeremy. “Something happy this dark day. Robin was a decent sort, Colin. You just had to get past your own ideas about what he should be like. Georgina?”
“She got a dose of russula emetica mushrooms. She’ll recover.”
“Poor kid.”
Colin helped Jeremy to his feet while Mike joined the firefighters coming out of Hurley’s. The place would need a few repairs but all in all, it was in decent shape. “We’re stuck with Hurley’s for another forty years,” Kevin said.
Oliver stayed close to Jeremy as he rallied. Too late, Jeremy admitted he shouldn’t have left the rectory. “I thought I was meeting Georgina. I should have had her come to the rectory. Robin told me how much she loved the Aoife O’Byrne paintings at the gallery, the woodland series in particular. He wanted to encourage her interest.”
“He’d seen Nick’s sketches and thought they were hers?” Oliver asked.
“At first, yes. I see now that’s why he wanted to talk to you. Nick messed with Robin’s head. He must have gone to see him on Sunday after Georgina left for Boston. Robin muttered something when I found him about a student. I thought he was delusional. But he meant Nick.” His eyes sunken, his skin ashen, Jeremy managed to look up at Colin. “Nick used both Robin’s and Georgina’s vulnerabilities and interests in foraging, sketching and certain books and movies to cover up his misdeeds and exact his revenge. He wanted her to suffer, too. Robin wanted to get her a painting, but he knew he never would. So I told him I would.”
“That’s when he realized you had loved his wife?”
Rival's Break Page 25