“When the body is released,” Craig said.
“He sounds like a nice man. Maria liked working for him.” Jilly sighed. “I need to go. I work Sundays for a few hours. Is there anything else? You can call me anytime if you think of something. I’d do anything to help catch Maria’s killer.” She shivered. “I still can’t believe they just shot her that way, point-blank.”
“Unfortunately there are a lot of terrible people in the world,” Mike said. “Thank you for your help.”
“You’re welcome,” Jilly said. “It’s all just so scary, you know?”
She looked nervous.
“We can drive you to work,” Craig said.
“You don’t have to do that. It’s only a few blocks away. And if Joe was somehow involved, it’s not like I’ve ever seen him. Oh, God! Do you think that’s possible? Maybe he got her to disarm the alarm so he could come in and wait for her, when really he was planning to...to...”
“We’ve considered that as a possibility, yes,” Craig told her. “Come on, we’ll drop you off.”
“No, thanks. I’d rather not be seen with the FBI. Just in case anyone’s watching, you know?” she told them.
“As you wish,” Craig said.
When she was gone, Mike said, “Damn. This means dealing with Mannerly again.”
“We have to find out why she never mentioned the phone,” Craig said. He drummed his fingers on the table. “I don’t like this at all. I think Bobby O’Leary was attacked because someone thought he knew something. I’m afraid for this girl, for Alicia Rodriguez, and everyone we talk to now because our killers could think they know something, too. Mike, I think that means we’re getting close to something.”
“Yeah. Too bad we still don’t see what it is.”
Craig agreed with that. “Joe,” he said thoughtfully.
“Yeah, what a great clue. A tall, dark-haired guy named Joe running around New York City,” Mike said glumly.
“We have more than that,” Craig said.
“We do? What’s that?”
“A tall, dark-haired guy named Joe running around New York City—and possibly frequenting a pub called Finnegan’s on Broadway,” Craig said. “It’s only an assumption, but with Bobby being attacked and everything else that’s been going on, it’s a fair one, I would say.”
* * *
By three o’clock in the afternoon, Kieran felt that she was going stir-crazy.
She’d actually managed to doze on and off for several hours and she felt rested, but also as nervous as a cat on a hot tin roof, as the saying went.
She tried to make herself look at things logically. To utilize every bit of training she’d had since she’d decided to go into psychology.
Not to mention calling on all her time in the field—more or less—as a bartender.
She didn’t want to die. She liked living. She loved her brothers and wasn’t sure they would actually make it to old age without her.
But it was also ridiculous to think that she couldn’t go down a flight of stairs to a busy street and hail a cab to go somewhere.
She was surprised, in the midst of her argument with herself, to receive a call.
It was Dr. Fuller, and he sounded impatient. He must have been called off the tennis court, she thought.
“Kieran, it’s Sunday, and I’m sorry as hell to bother you,” he said.
“It’s all right. I’m not doing anything important,” she said. “What is it?”
“Dr. Miro actually tried to deal with this, but...it’s a woman you were doing an assessment on for us. She’s at Rikers.”
“Oh?”
“Tanya Lee Hampton. You know. The one who cut off her husband’s penis,” Fuller said flatly.
“Yes? Is something wrong?” Kieran asked worriedly. Had she made a poor assessment? Had the woman knifed someone in the cafeteria?
“She wants to see you and only you.”
“She does?”
“Her attorney called me. She’s very upset, and she won’t tell anyone why. Only you.”
“All right. What do I do?”
“Nothing. I’m sending a car for you. The driver—William Buell, he drives for us all the time—will call when he gets there. Mrs. Hampton’s attorney will be waiting for you when you arrive.”
Reprieve! She could go out and no one could fault her for it. She was being picked up at her door and going to a place where dozens of officers would be keeping watch.
“I’ll be ready,” she said.
In twenty minutes she received the call from William Buell. She’d seen him before, though he’d never actually driven her.
Along with working with the police, her bosses often worked alongside defense attorneys representing the very rich, enabling them to be very rich themselves. Buell, she was pretty sure, was Dr. Fuller’s private driver.
He was on the sidewalk waiting for her when she came down. “Miss Finnegan, good afternoon. Lovely day for a drive. Too bad we’re going to Rikers.”
“Not to mention we’re both working on a Sunday.”
He laughed and let her into the car.
He was a talkative man and entertained her with stories about his son’s Little League games as they drove.
As Dr. Fuller had said, she was met by Tanya Lee Hampton’s public defender, Joan Terry, a dark-haired young woman with a harried expression and frizzy hair who reminded Kieran of a schnauzer. But she turned out to be highly professional and dedicated to her often thankless job.
“I don’t know what’s going on,” she told Kieran, as they jumped through the metaphorical hoops involved in entering the facility. “She was insistent that we reach you. I kept telling her that I’m the one who’ll be defending her in court, so she has to tell me anything that can affect her case, but she begged me to get hold of you. I’ve read your report, and you will help us, won’t you?”
“Yes, of course,” Kieran said.
She was led to a small room similar to the one she had been in twice before, just in a different section of the jail. There was a door with a window, a table and two chairs.
“A guard and I will be right outside,” the attorney told her.
“I’ll be fine,” Kieran said.
Tanya Lee Hampton was waiting for her. She didn’t say a word until the guard and her lawyer were outside the door.
“Thank goodness you’re all right. And thank goodness you’re here,” Tanya said then.
“Forget about me. How are you doing?”
Tanya shrugged. “My sister is trying to come up with bail. This isn’t a great place, you know.” She leaned in closer. “Dr. Finnegan, I think you’re in danger.”
Kieran was stunned by her words, but said by rote, “I’m not a doctor. Please, just call me Kieran.”
“Kieran, you were great to me. You were the first person who actually listened to my side of the story. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“Thank you. I don’t want anything to happen to me, either. Now tell me what you’re talking about.”
“It’s something I overheard, and I can’t let anyone in here know about it or know that I might pass something on if I overheard it. You won’t say anything, right?”
“I’ll keep this in confidence, yes, though I’ll have to give some explanation to your attorney,” Kieran said.
“I’m afraid of dying here, if anyone finds out I said something,” Tanya said.
“We won’t let that happen,” Kieran said.
Was that the truth?
She prayed she wasn’t lying and nodded encouragingly at Tanya.
“Okay, I was at dinner, and I heard these other women talking, only I couldn’t see them because there was a big concrete column between us. I heard them talking about the chick i
n the subway, laughing because the girl who went down on the tracks is probably going to get famous and all. And then they started talking about you.”
“By name?” Kieran asked.
“Actually, they called you ‘the Irish broad.’”
Kieran shrugged at that. “Okay, go on.”
Tanya took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “The one’s boyfriend was the one who did it! She was whining because he was supposed to get good money for it, too. But he didn’t get paid ’cause he pushed the wrong person. He was aiming for you and blew it.”
Kieran nodded slowly, feeling chilled but not shocked. She’d sensed that the man in the hoodie had been after her.
Thankfully, whoever wanted her dead had hired an inept assassin.
Whoever wanted her dead...
Yes, someone wanted her dead.
She tried not to shrink into herself with fear.
“Tanya, I think what happened in the subway is connected to several murders. Can you tell me anything else at all?” she asked, amazed that her voice wasn’t trembling.
“Oh, God, I’m so sorry, but I can’t. I’m a coward. But I’ve got kids, you know? I should have moved closer and tried to hear more, but instead I waited until I knew they’d gone.”
Great. There was no way to question every woman at Rikers. Besides, whoever it was would only stare at them blankly and lie anyway.
Not to mention that it would put Tanya in danger.
There was one thing she could do, she thought.
“Tanya, I’m going to get a Good Samaritan to post your bail. I’ll do it as quickly as possible,” she promised. She hesitated, then asked, “Did you hear anything else? Anything at all?”
Tanya was reflective, her brow knit into a frown. “Yeah, there was one more thing,” she said finally. “But I didn’t really get it.”
“What?”
“You work at a pub, too, right?” Tanya asked.
“My family owns a pub, yes.”
“That makes sense, then,” Tanya said. “Whoever she was, she said her boyfriend knew what you looked like. The people who were supposed to pay him pointed you out one night. At a pub.”
* * *
“I can’t even begin to understand what you don’t understand,” Ms. Mannerly said indignantly. “Why would I worry about a phone when a woman was dead?”
“We need all the information you have on that phone,” Mike told her calmly.
“Why? I’ve already had it turned off.”
“Because that phone has disappeared, but if it turns up again, we’ll have something to go on,” Craig said, smiling pleasantly.
The smile was almost real.
He was grateful as hell that he didn’t work for the woman.
“All right, all right, I suppose that makes sense,” she said. She pulled up a spreadsheet on her computer and rattled off the phone number, the service provider and where all her employee phones were purchased.
They thanked her, and as soon as they left her office, Craig put through a call to Wally, their top civilian tech, and gave him all the information. “Can you get anything from that?” he asked.
“Probably not much. I can tell you when it was last used and maybe get some call records. I’ll do my best,” Wally promised, then was quiet for a moment. “You know this is Sunday, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I know,” Craig said. “I owe you one, Wally.” When he hung up, he looked at Mike. “We really need to find Joe.”
Mike nodded. “We need to find out everywhere she went with Joe and anything her friends know about where he’s been, then check out every damned Joe in the place.”
Craig nodded. “Maybe those phone records will help. I’ll tell you one thing, though.”
Mike looked at him questioningly.
“We go back to Finnegan’s ourselves,” Craig said.
“We need to ask Declan for all his receipts.”
“No, we’ll get Mayo to do that,” Craig said.
“Why?”
“Because we’re going back as Ian Stone and his drummer buddy, Nate Ellsworth,” Craig said.
Mike looked at him suspiciously. “You think something at Finnegan’s isn’t what it appears, don’t you?”
“Yes, you know that.”
“Do you suspect one of the family?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Of course you don’t. Not when you’re sleeping with Kieran Finnegan,” Mike said. “You’ve got to get past that, buddy. You don’t know what’s going on there, and you need an open mind.”
“I am past it. I never let my personal feelings interfere with the job, and you know that, Mike.” Craig was surprised that Mike hadn’t yet mentioned what they’d heard from Julie Benton.
Mike shook his head. “You need to be careful, buddy, really careful. Now, me? I believe in her. I think you found a frickin’ pot o’ gold. She’s smart and beautiful, but you still need to watch out.”
“Mike...”
“Yeah, yeah, you’re a pro. I know. Listen, do we really have to wear beards again? And those flipping contacts?”
“Yes, Mike, we do.”
“She’s going to see through you,” Mike said.
“Bull. I worked undercover for years. Eagan didn’t even recognize us, remember?”
Mike laughed. “Yeah, but you’re not sleeping with Eagan.”
* * *
Kieran assuaged Tanya’s attorney by making up something about Tanya telling her additional and very personal details of her marriage, things the woman wasn’t comfortable talking about to anyone but her. She promised that she would put everything in a revised report.
She managed to get out of Rikers quickly, despite the fact that Miss Terry insisted on seeing her to the gates, apologizing all the way for having brought her in on a Sunday.
As soon as Kieran was back in the car, she asked William Buell to drive her to Finnegan’s.
Yes, that was where someone had pointed her out to the man who had tried to kill her. But, she reasoned, no one was likely to try to kill her there—at least not during business hours.
She went back to wondering why someone wanted her dead.
If someone was trying to kill her, it had to be because he or she thought she knew something. The problem was, if she did know something, she had no idea what it was.
They’d tried to kill Bobby, too, and presumably for the same reason. And given that he was pretty much a full-time barfly, it was in fact reasonable to think he might have overheard something.
But what?
She had to talk to Craig. This was getting serious.
Of course, Craig already suspected something was going on at Finnegan’s. She could tell that he was suspicious of the clientele—and her family.
Maybe even of her.
No, he couldn’t be. He’d been with her when she’d been taken hostage. Then again, maybe he thought she’d been some kind of plant, and then the wrong set of thieves had shown up.
Maybe he was even sleeping with her to try to find out what was going on. Maybe he even expected to hear her whisper the truth when she was asleep.
She told herself she was being ridiculous. Even paranoid.
All she knew for sure was that at that moment she needed to be at Finnegan’s, needed to be with her family, the people she could always count on.
And where she was afraid someone she loved might be inadvertently involved in everything that was going on.
Buell let her off directly in front of the door and Kieran hurried inside.
The place was relatively quiet.
The pub always did a traditional roast from 1:00 p.m. until closing, which was midnight on Sundays. People came in at random times all day, and when she arrived, half th
e tables were full. She saw Mary Kathleen right away.
Her brother’s fiancée was in bright spirits; she knew that Bobby was doing well, so as far as she was concerned, all was right with the world.
“Kieran! I didn’t think you were coming in today,” Mary Kathleen said. “You must be worn to a frazzle, working all day, then sleeping at the hospital. Why didn’t you go home?”
“I needed company, I guess,” Kieran said. “And I had to talk to someone for work, and since they gave me a driver, I thought that I’d just get dropped off here.”
“Work on a Sunday?”
“No rest for the weary,” Kieran said lightly.
Mary Kathleen looked at her worriedly.
“No, no, I’m not really weary,” Kieran said quickly. “It was just something that needed to be done today.”
“Well, Declan’s behind the bar, Kevin is doing books and Debbie and I are doing fine out here on the floor. Why don’t you get something to eat? You’re starting to look a wee bit pinched.”
“I’ll say hi to Declan and maybe ask Rory for something, and then I’ll head back and see if Kevin wants some company,” Kieran said, smiling.
Her brother frowned fiercely when she walked up to the bar.
“I told you to get some rest,” he said with a scowl.
“And I did. I just wanted company, that’s all.”
“All right, you can help out if you want. I need you to pull all the credit card receipts from the past three weeks, and then I need you to see if any of them were paid by a man named Joe or Joseph.”
“What?” she asked, wondering if she’d heard him correctly.
“Detective Mayo is on his way—says they have a lead on a guy named Joe. I need you to go through our receipts and see if you can find him.”
“They think that someone named Joe is involved in all this and has been here?”
“That’s what I gather.”
“If Joe were a crook, wouldn’t he pay cash?”
“Possibly, but then again, maybe he’s a stupid crook or just thinks we’ll never get onto him.”
“Okay,” she said, turning away from the bar.
A married couple from the old country who had been coming in as long as Kieran could remember were seated in the first of the bar tables. The second was empty. Jimmy was sitting alone at the third. The two musicians from the day before were seated at the fourth, talking animatedly over their Sunday roast.