They couldn’t be.
Or rather, being honest with himself, he didn’t want them to be.
Craig sat up suddenly. “I just thought of something.”
Mike groaned. “Oh, God, what does that mean?”
“We worked a lot of different units, both of us, before landing here.”
“So?”
“Come on.”
“Where are we going?”
“My place.”
“For?”
“A change of clothes.”
Mike arched a brow.
“And faces. A change of clothes—and faces.”
* * *
The Finnegan family was good at allotting tasks to make sure everything was covered, especially in times of crisis, Kieran thought.
Declan, in his role as eldest, created a schedule.
Danny had to work that day, but when he was done being a tour guide he would head back to the hospital.
Finnegan’s opened at 11:00 a.m., but Rory, Pedro and Javier would have the kitchen going early, Debbie Buenger would open the bar and Mary Kathleen would join her to make sure opening would be covered. Declan himself would be there by eleven thirty.
Kieran would leave the hospital in time to make it to the pub by around twelve thirty, when the lunch crowd got going, and Kevin would stay at the hospital until Danny arrived. Once Kevin got to the pub, Kieran would return to the hospital and stay as long as they let her. Moving forward, Danny would be a floater and either stay at the hospital or come to the pub, depending on which seemed more important on the day.
At one point, as Kieran sat next to Bobby, nearly drowsing, she felt him squeeze her hand again.
Her eyes flew open, and she saw that Bobby was looking at her. He managed a weak smile and his lips were moving.
“Thank you,” he said, and he closed his eyes again.
She looked across the bed at Kevin, who was staring at her.
“Did I just hear that?” he asked.
“Yes!” she said excitedly. “He spoke.”
Kieran rose, easing her hand from Bobby’s, and headed into the hall, looking for a doctor. She found Nurse Emily, who told her that even momentary consciousness was a very good sign, but they had to be patient. With luck he would wake up again soon.
As the lunch hour drew near, Kieran rose to leave. Due to her recent experience in the subway, she opted to take a cab and made it to the pub without incident.
Saturday crowds could be a strange mix.
The pub was closer to downtown than not, so the business crowd that flooded the pub on weekdays wasn’t around.
Saturday nights tended to be very busy, with tourists and random locals on top of their regular patrons.
The regulars all knew Bobby O’Leary and would understand that the Finnegan siblings had taken on the duty of watching over him.
When Kieran came in, she saw that Declan or someone had asked Julie to help out; she was wearing an apron and carrying a tray filled with frosty ales.
Julie saw Kieran walk in and paused with her heavy tray. “How’s Bobby? Any change?” Her tone was worried.
“I think he’s a little better. He opened his eyes for a minute and spoke,” Kieran said.
One of the regulars overheard her, and in seconds her words were echoing through the entire place.
“Bobby is a fighter, that he is!” someone called out. “Three cheers for Bobby.”
Cheers and applause filled the air.
“This really is an amazing place,” Julie said, smiling. “In a city made up of neighborhoods, Finnegan’s just might make this area the best.”
“I’m not about to disagree, Now, where am I needed?” Kieran asked, smiling.
“You’re always a godsend behind the bar, you know that. But,” she said, lowering her voice, “if you and your brother don’t mind, I’d love some help here in the bar. Mr. Krakowsky is here.”
“Krakowsky?” Kieran said blankly.
“Gary’s boss, Simon Krakowsky.” She nodded in his direction. “I don’t think Gary would have arranged to meet him here after the last time he came in, but I’m still worried he’ll show up. And Mr. Krakowsky loves you. You saved his store, after all, running after those guys and jumping into that van.”
“I didn’t run after anyone, much less jump into that van. I was dragged at what I thought was gunpoint,” Kieran protested.
“Whatever, he adores you. He’s told the world about you saying ‘Any decent person would lend a hand.’ But he’s still Gary’s boss, you know? Please, I don’t mind helping at all, just please don’t make me wait on him.”
“Where are Mary Kathleen and Debbie?”
“Running their butts off over there,” Julie told her, nodding toward the dining room.
The bar area held five tables, while the dining room held twenty, along with the stage.
“Gotcha, not a problem,” Kieran said. “Just let me set my things down.”
Declan was behind the bar, moving at the speed of light. Kieran set her jacket and bag beneath the bar, explained Julie’s request to her brother and headed to Simon Krakowsky’s table, passing several tables on the way.
Austin and Libby Anderson were at the first—regulars. She flashed them a quick smile. She didn’t recognize the two men at the second table, both long-haired and bearded, one in classic John Lennon wire-rims, and both wearing T-shirts advertising a band called Resurgence. A guitar was propped up next to the one with the longer beard. She’d never heard of the group, but New York was overrun with up-and-coming bands—and, of course, plenty that would never make it at all.
She reached Simon Krakowsky’s table. He was eating alone, but she could easily understand Julie’s fear that he might be joined by one of his employees, specifically Gary.
“Mr. Krakowsky,” she said, smiling as she stood beside him. “How are you?”
“I’m just fine, Miss Finnegan,” he said, nodding gravely. “Largely thanks to you, of course.”
“I’m happy that you feel that way, but, really, I was a hostage and simply went into self-preservation mode.”
“Maybe, but your quick thinking might have saved our lives.”
“We were being held up by men with water pistols,” she reminded him.
“I heard that on the news, but you didn’t know that as it was happening.”
“Self-preservation,” she repeated. “But thank you. Are you dining alone today?”
He nodded. “Felt the need to be surrounded by good people,” he said. “Even if I’m on my own. I heard about your friend being mugged. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what this world is coming to.”
“There’s still a lot of good in the world, Mr. Krakowsky. And Bobby’s hanging on. I believe he’s going to make it.”
“I’ll pray for him,” Mr. Krakowsky said. Then he shook his head. “Seems like just yesterday that I was in here with friends and the world felt safe.”
“The world has never really been safe,” she said.
“My world was safe. Humdrum, day in, day out.” He was quiet for a moment, then pointed to the bar. “I was in here with my friend Harry Belvedere. Do you know Harry?”
“I might. I’m not sure.”
“He owns Vintage by Victoria. He named the place after his late wife.”
Kieran paused, frowning. “That’s the jewelry store that was just held up. And it’s where...”
“Yes. Where that poor young girl was killed.”
“You two were in here together?” she asked him.
“That’s what I just said. I had a shipment of stones coming in from Africa—clean stones, by the way. I always check. I’m not a broker for any bastards making their money off blood diamonds.”
“I believe tha
t you run a very ethical business,” Kieran assured him. “But you were here, talking about diamonds?”
“Harry needed some stones to restore a piece of estate jewelry. He specializes in antique jewelry. He’s devastated. That poor, poor girl.”
“Yes,” Kieran said. She felt frozen in place.
She’d known the thieves had been in Finnegan’s. Now it seemed that the killers might have been here, as well.
Listening. Stalking her family’s clientele. Picking their next target.
She was heartsick—and furious. How dare they sully Finnegan’s, where everyone was welcome, where hospitality meant everything.
“I know. It’s horrible,” she said.
Mr. Krakowsky nodded gravely, and then smiled, nodding to someone across the room. Kieran turned to follow his gaze. He was looking at Julie.
“I probably shouldn’t be saying this, but... Gary is a good employee, but I have to question his intelligence. Julie is one of the loveliest women I’ve ever met. Divorce is hard, but marriages do fall apart. Still, there are ways to conduct yourself and ways not to. The man is an idiot, leaving her for some of the women I’ve seen him with recently.” He met her eyes. “I hear you asked him to leave the pub the other night.”
“I did,” she said firmly.
“I told him the same thing, said he needs to have the good sense to stay out of this place. He’s tight with Jimmy, though, and I guess this has been McManus’s watering hole since your dad was running it.”
She’d been there too long, and she was starting to feel her anger at Gary growing all over again. She had to shake off the way she was feeling and do her job.
“Look at me,” she said with forced brightness. “Standing and chatting in the middle of the lunch rush. I’d better get to work or I’ll hear about it from my brother later. What can I get you today?”
“I’m sorry. Selfish of me to monopolize you. A stout, please—surprise me with which. And that chicken pot pie thing your chef does so well.”
“Coming right up,” Kieran promised him. She poured and delivered his stout, then headed back behind the bar to help, since it would be some time before his food was up.
She found herself pausing to look at the two musicians. They were scribbling on music paper, apparently working on a song. Their half-full beer glasses and empty plates sat in front of them.
She walked over to pick up the plates. “Can I get you anything else?” she asked.
They both looked up at her.
“No, thank you,” said the full-bearded one, who she noticed had dark eyes versus his friend’s green ones.
She nodded and stepped away. Something about them seemed odd. And vaguely familiar.
Surely she would have noticed them if they’d been in before.
Maybe she was going overboard looking for anything suspicious.
Besides, bearded men always looked suspicious. Or creepy.
At least they weren’t wearing hoodies.
She put the empty plates in the bin under the bar and went back to work.
Every time someone came in and wanted to talk about Bobby, it seemed the rest of the place wanted to drink a toast to his recovery.
Around three thirty, Kevin came in. He assured her that Bobby was stable and his vital signs were good. A new nurse, Molly, was on duty, and she had been more forthcoming than steely-eyed Nurse Emily.
“Did he open his eyes again?” Kieran asked her brother.
He shook his head. “Maybe he’s waiting for you,” he said, smiling.
“I’m going to stay there tonight,” Kieran said.
“I figured. I’ll be there early in the morning,” he told her.
She said goodbye to Declan and the others, then noted that Mr. Krakowsky was still there and that Jimmy McManus—minus Gary Benton, thank heavens—was at the bar.
Kevin saw her out and safely into a cab.
When she returned to Bobby’s room, an officer she hadn’t met yet was on duty, as well as the new nurse. The officer seemed aware that she was coming and rose to open the door to Bobby’s room for her. She thanked him as she entered.
Danny was in a chair beside the bed, holding one of Bobby’s hands and apparently dozing. He heard her arrival, though, and blinked and yawned, then smiled at her.
“Any news?” she asked.
“No news is good news,” he told her. “They took him out for some scans a bit ago. One of the doctors will be back in soon.”
She nodded and took up a seat across the bed from her brother, taking Bobby’s other hand and squeezing it lightly.
Nothing at first.
Then she was certain she felt a slight squeeze in return.
“Everything okay at the pub?” Danny asked her softly.
“Yes,” she said, then hesitated. She wanted to talk to him openly, wanted to tell him what Simon Krakowsky had told her.
But she didn’t want to have that conversation over the body of a friend who was fighting for his life.
“Yes, everything is fine,” she said. “I guess we should be quiet and let Bobby rest, huh?”
“No, the doctor who came in before they took Bobby out for his scan—Dr. Huang—told me that we should talk all we want, to each other and to Bobby.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, he might hear us on some level, and it might help draw him back to consciousness.”
“Oh, well...great.”
She still didn’t want to talk about the pub, though.
“So how was your day?” she asked him. “How was your tour group?”
“Fantastic,” he said. “A bunch of college kids. It always seems so strange to me that people come to New York City to shop or go to Broadway shows, but they never come downtown. They don’t see Trinity and St. Paul’s. They have no clue that the Dutch settled New Amsterdam in 1609 and that the English didn’t take over the colony until 1664. They don’t know that the British held the city during much of the Revolution, or even that it was the capital for a while. They know nothing about Washington being here, about—” Danny stopped abruptly and gave her a wry smile. “Sorry. I just love this city so much.”
Kieran grinned. “I love the city, too, Danny.”
“Of course you do.” He sighed. “I’ll never get rich, of course. Leading tours. But I truly love it, and I hope I get to do it forever.”
“Of course you do. And you know every little nook and cranny of it, too,” she said.
Her own words suddenly disturbed her.
Yes, her brother knew the city. Knew every neighborhood, every street and every alley.
She was immediately furious with herself. Her brother was no killer.
“Our building has been there since 1833,” she reminded him.
He nodded. “Built as office space, a landmark back then at four floors. And a Finnegan opened the first pub there in 1845.”
“We’re remarkable,” she said, smiling.
She felt Bobby squeeze her hand and quickly looked down at him.
His eyes were open, and he was looking at her again. She thought that his lips even twitched into an almost-smile.
He spoke, his words raspy and barely a whisper on the air.
She couldn’t make them out and looked over at Danny, a question in her eyes.
He smiled. “He said we should keep talking.”
Bobby’s eyes fluttered shut. She could have sworn that almost-smile was still there, though.
“So, who are you taking where tomorrow?” she asked.
As Danny rattled on about his plans for the next day, she half listened.
And half worried.
* * *
“Everyone looks pretty normal to me,” Mike said.
Craig lowered his head, grinni
ng. His partner looked anything but normal himself, with his neatly trimmed beard and mustache, and green contact lenses.
“They are normal,” Craig said. He was watching Krakowsky. The older man had stayed at his table by the bar all day, and he didn’t seem about to leave.
Then again, he and Mike were still there, too.
It had taken just about all his resolve not to get up and leave when Kieran did. He was afraid, he realized, of her even being on the street alone.
Which was unreasonable, he knew.
He and Mike had watched customers come and go—or come and stay—throughout the day, many of them people they’d seen on previous visits.
He’d overheard snatches of Kieran’s conversation with Mr. Krakowsky, and he was more convinced than ever that both sets of thieves had been here, either to share information or pilfer it.
As the afternoon wore on into evening, they saw many if not most of the pub’s regulars. The man who had been with Gary Benton—he heard Declan greet him as Jimmy McManus—was there with friends, luckily not including Gary. They sat where they could see one of the screens and watched a college baseball game.
“I thought your girlfriend had us pegged there for a moment,” Mike said.
“My what?”
“Kieran. When she walked by, I thought she was about to ask us what the hell we thought we were doing. She would have figured it out if she hadn’t left.”
“Maybe.”
“What was that accent you were doing, anyway? Slavic-Hispanic?” Mike teased.
“My best Romanian,” Craig said. Then he went still.
“Krakowsky has company,” he said.
“Oh?” Mike murmured, turning his head surreptitiously.
It was Harry Belvedere.
The two men hugged in greeting. Then Belvedere sat down, and the two talked quietly, leaning in head to head.
“Probably commiserating,” Mike said.
Craig nodded. “Comparing notes on being robbed?”
“Not much to compare. Krakowsky got back his jewels and no one was hurt. Belvedere lost his best pieces, and worse, a woman was killed.”
“The point is,” Craig said quietly, “they’re here together now, so the odds are they’ve been here together before. And I’m betting both groups of thieves have been here, too.”