Night Of The Blackbird (37 page)

“I don't give a damn where we are. I would have wound up sleeping in the hallway tonight if you hadn't come here.”

“Why?”

“I think that someone did try to get into the house the other night.”

“Why?”

“I'm not sure.”

“There was no sign of a break-in. My father would have noticed if there had been. Only the family and you have keys.”

“Ah, there we are. Me again. Go to sleep, Moira, I'll wake you in plenty of time to get upstairs before your family wakes up.”

She could stay, she thought. And when he fell asleep…

“You'll be fine,” he said, as if reading her mind. “I wake up at the drop of a pin.”

Tomorrow night, then. She would have to get back here while he was still at the wake. It was her only chance.

“I should go up.”

“You should sleep.”

“I'm still…restless.”

“Too much energy to burn,” he murmured. “Hmm…let me help you out with that.”

She felt his hands, the subtle caress of the tip of his tongue.

Soon she wasn't restless at all. Just exhausted. She fell into a deep sleep. Dreamless. She might as well have been…

Dead.

She didn't want to waken when she felt his touch on her shoulder.

“It's morning, Moira. Time for you to get upstairs. And by the way, when are you going to quit pretending that you're still with Michael? I think the next time I see his arm around you, or watch you go up on your toes for a delicate little kiss, I'm going to haul off and deck the guy.”

M
oira spent the day with her family, watching Brian, Shannon and Molly for a while in the morning, then helping her dad make phone calls so everything would be perfect for Seamus's wake and funeral. She made sure that the substitute band was coming in, since Blackbird had been given the night off. The group would probably be in with the rest of the mourners after the wake, and they would probably wind up playing. But they had all known Seamus, and they were all to be given the time.

The wake would end at ten. At that time, everyone would be invited back to Kelly's. There would be food and drink, and no one would be charged.

When Michael called from the studio, she tried to explain it to him. “The wake will run from seven to ten. Colleen, Patrick and I will take turns being here during that time for an hour each.”

“Why?” Michael asked her.

“It's…it's just the way we do things.”

“So your dad is going to allow anyone in? Why doesn't he just put up a notice that he's having a private party?”

“Because…well, I think it's a way to really honor Seamus. In the old days, Ireland was known for her hospitality. Strangers were never turned away. Seamus was…part of that spirit of Ireland. There were no strangers to him, just people he hadn't met yet. I rather like it. I think it's part of what can be so beautiful about the nature of the Irish.”

“Your dad's going to go broke feeding people.” He sighed. “I guess I'm not Irish enough to really understand, but hey, I'm here to weasel my way in. Where you go, my love, I will be. And what you do, I will support.”

Tremendous guilt swept through her. But it would be good if Michael came back to Kelly's with her when it was her turn to host the bar during the wake.

That would keep Danny from thinking that he had to be with her.

“By the way, the editing is going great, and the live feed will run from twelve till twelve-thirty. And you've got a great place on the dais to watch the parade.”

“Thanks, Michael,” she said softly.

“It's my job, ma'am. Just my job,” he teased.

She hung up after telling him she would see him at Flannery's that night. She was due there with her family at six.

The afternoon went quickly. Patrick and Danny were both in attendance all day as they readied everything for the family's departure. Moira served in the bar for a while, then helped her mother, Granny Jon, Colleen and Siobhan upstairs; Katy Kelly was preparing a lot of food for that evening.

When she was alone with her sister, chopping vegetables, Colleen spoke to Moira softly. “You're looking haggard, kid. You were downstairs again last night.”

Moira stared at her sister, startled.

“You've got to make a decision, you know.”

“Decision?”

“Regarding Michael. I saw him watching you last night.”

“Colleen, I just want to get through tomorrow—”

“I know. I understand. It's just that…well, I think he's starting to suspect something's going on between you and Danny. He doesn't say a word, but the way he was watching last night…well, you know, he is a man, and he has his pride as well as his feelings.”

“I just have to get through tonight and tomorrow. Things will be better after tomorrow, although…”

“Although what?” Siobhan asked, coming into the kitchen and joining the conversation.

“I don't know. Everything seems very…strange, lately.”

“Why?” Colleen asked. “What else has happened?”

“Happened?” She felt guilty, looking at her sister, wondering if Colleen, too, knew that something was going on in the bar, if she knew that Kyle Browne was a Fed looking for a would-be assassin.

“What's strange?”

She thought of the one thing she could say. “There was girl in the bar last night. I'm certain she was a prostitute—pretty, well dressed.”

“A hooker? In Kelly's?” Colleen said. “Dad would be furious.”

“She wasn't soliciting. She was just having a drink because she was afraid to be out alone with a killer on the loose.”

“What was so strange?” Colleen persisted.

“Well, she was talking to me, saying maybe she had seen one of the victims, maybe even the killer. But she wouldn't go to the police. I think her father deals drugs.”

“Then what?” Siobhan asked.

“She looked into the mirror over my head and turned white. When I looked into the mirror to find out what she was staring at, she disappeared.”

“Obviously she saw something that scared her,” Siobhan said.

“Yeah, like the cop who sits in the corner every night ordering blackbirds,” Colleen said.

“You know he's a cop? How?” Moira asked.

“Jeff told me he's almost sure of it.”

“You know, once we get through all this…if you're still worried,” Siobhan said, “I'll take a walk to the police station with you, and you can tell them about the girl and what you heard. Maybe you'll feel better then.”

“It probably won't do much good,” Colleen said. “First, they'd have to find her, and this is a big city. Then they'd have to get her to talk. And maybe she didn't really see anything at all.”

“You're right,” Moira told her sister. “But Siobhan is right, too. It might make me feel better.”

Later on, when Siobhan was helping her arrange cookies on a plate, her sister-in-law looked at her and said, “There's more bothering you than a conversation you had with a girl at the bar. It's Danny, isn't it? His being here is getting to you.”

“No,” Moira lied.

Siobhan shrugged. “I think you're lying. You'd like to believe he's come to stay. You don't want to face the truth. Well, take it from me, the truth is always better than doubt. I'd give my eyeteeth to know the truth now.”

“Patrick adores you,” Moira said, defending her brother.

“I'd like to believe that. I might, if he were with me more. I think he's even forgotten that he has kids. He keeps talking to Michael about taking the boat out and bringing Andrew McGahey along, so they can all talk about Ireland. Guess what? He hasn't mentioned bringing me or his kids on this exciting first trip of the season.”

Siobhan walked away.

Finally it was time to get dressed and ready, and then they were on the way to Flannery's. Molly and Shannon had their chocolates to go into the coffin. Siobhan had wondered whether or not to let Molly see Seamus in his coffin, but the undertaker had done such a fine job that her worries had been laid to rest.

“I still don't understand, Auntie Mo,” Molly said to Moira when they were standing beside the coffin. “Mommy says it's like he's sleeping. Why does he want to sleep in a box?”

“Well, Molly, Seamus is really in heaven, with God. His body is resting in the box, and we'll bury him, and that way, when we want to say a prayer for him or think about him a lot, we can go to the cemetery, to his grave, maybe bring him a flower.”

“Or a pint,” Danny suggested wryly from behind her.

“Bring him a little something,” Moira continued, “and feel close to him. But Seamus himself, his soul, the real Seamus, is with God.” She picked up her niece. “Here, I'll lift you, Molly. You can set your chocolates right in his hand. Next to the rosary Auntie Mo just put in.”

Molly put her chocolates in the coffin. Shannon did the same. Even Brian, the doubter, had brought a Snickers bar.

Soon it was time for the doors to open to the public. Eamon Kelly, Katy by his side, still knelt at the coffin. A moment later he rose and took a seat in the first row of pews. The first hour had begun.

Patrick had returned to the pub, to tell any lost mourners the way to Flannery's, and to let them know they would be welcome at the pub later.

Michael, Josh and Gina arrived, without the twins. Gina whispered to Moira that they'd managed to get a baby-sitter. Josh told Moira that he and Gina would head to the pub with her when it was her turn to go; she told him that Michael was coming with her, and that she would appreciate it if they would stay at the funeral home so they could bring Colleen back for the last shift.

From then on, it was wild. Seamus had never married, but he'd acquired his share of lady friends. The room was so crowded that Moira took to the halls. She heard the keening from within as friends from the old country cried over the loss. When she went back inside, she sat with her father, as people kept coming up. Friends from the bar. Friends with whom Seamus had worked. All shook her hand and told her how wonderful a man Seamus had been. Finally Moira rose again, needing some breathing room. As she walked from the viewing room, she was startled to run into Tom Gambetti.

“I just came to pay my respects,” he told her, as if he was embarrassed to be there.

“That's very nice of you. Please, go on in.”

“If I'm being too pushy…?”

“No, no, you're fine. I'll see you at the pub later—you're more than welcome, if you'd care to come by.”

He nodded his thanks.

Moira went into the broad windowed hallway that ran along the front of the building. She could see Danny outside on the porch, lighting a cigarette. Many people approached him. He listened, shook hands and apparently accepted condolences on behalf of the family. She narrowed her eyes when one woman, middle-aged, with silver gray hair, approached him carrying a brown parcel. He leaned low, kissing her cheek, apparently thanking her for coming.

When she walked away, the woman no longer had the parcel.

“You doing okay?” Michael came up to her, slipping an arm around her shoulders. His hand moved to her nape, and he massaged her neck.

“I'm fine.”

“It's almost time for us to go back to the pub.”

She saw Danny come back into the funeral parlor. To her surprise, he walked into one of the viewing rooms that wasn't in use.

“Moira?”

“Oh, yes, we have to go. In just a few minutes. Excuse me, Michael, I'm going to try to find my father.”

She slipped through the crowd, not sure why, but knowing that she didn't want Michael to know her destination. She walked up to Siobhan and asked her if she'd seen Danny.

“No, not in a while.”

“I think I saw him slip into a room over there. Can you find him while I speak to Dad? Tell him that we need him to…carry something. Heavy.”

Siobhan left. When Danny came out with her, he didn't have the bundle. Moira avoided them and raced into the room. No bundle, but there was a drapery over a coffin stand. She rushed to it. The brown bundle was there. She felt it. Not a gun. She sighed in relief, realized it was a group of folders.

She could hear people talking just outside the room.

“What did she want?” It was Danny.

“I don't know, Danny. Moira just said that you were needed,” Siobhan responded.

“Well, where the hell is she?”

“Probably with Eamon, by the coffin.”

They moved off.

On an impulse, Moira grabbed a few of the folders and shoved the bundle back where it had been. She slipped the folders beneath her jacket and hurried out. Michael was in the hallway.

“Moira, everyone is looking for you. You needed something moved?”

“Never mind, the funeral parlor people took care of it. It was a flower arrangement,” she babbled quickly. “Hey, let's go.”

“Don't you want to tell your dad we're leaving?”

“He'll know. Let's go, Michael. Now.”

Patrick had taken his own car; Moira and Michael took her father's. She was silent as they drove. Michael slid a hand over hers. “I love you.”

She smiled at him weakly.

“You're so distant.”

“This is almost all over.”

“Yes.”

They reached the pub. Things were quiet. The substitute group was setting up, and Patrick was behind the bar, serving the lone man in a business suit who was sitting there. The tables were empty.

“We're here, Patrick. You can head back. I don't think Siobhan wants to stay much longer with the kids. I was thinking she could come home with Colleen when she leaves. Josh and Gina will be with her, too. Then you can stay with Mum and Dad until I get back.”

“Sounds good,” Patrick said, rubbing his neck. “Guess I'm on my way back, then.” He paused, looking at his sister. “You all right? Michael is here with you, anyway.”

“I'll break the bottle over the head of any asshole who comes in here and scares her,” Michael said.

Patrick nodded. “Good deal.” Then he grabbed his coat and was gone.

“Michael, that guy is just drinking beer. Can you step behind the bar for a few minutes? I think I'll use Danny's bath to freshen up,” Moira said, seeing her chance.