Deadly Gift

  What was it that Eddie knew, or had, that had brought about his death?

  Did it have to do with Sean, as well?

  If they were both dead, did the business fall to Cal and Marni?

  No. Kat and Amanda would inherit what wasn’t bequeathed to others, including Sean’s share of the business. None of it made any sense. Cal didn’t really stand to gain anything.

  Amanda might do well by becoming a widow. She wouldn’t have access to all of Sean’s fortune, because of Kat, but she would be better off than she had been going into the marriage.

  But Amanda had nothing to gain by murdering Eddie.

  There had to be something else. Something he was missing.

  He kept returning to Eddie’s research. And Sean’s. Over the years, they had both gone on and on about Nigel Bridgewater.

  He waved to Marni and Cal as they made arrangements to take the men sailing around the bay and headed out, telling him to lock up when he left.

  And then his thoughts went back to the Revolutionary War and the missing patriot treasure.

  Bridey had come down with something. Clara fussed and made tea, toast and soup. Sean’s primary care doctor actually made a point of coming out to see her, and he prescribed an antibiotic. Bridey decried the attention being given to her, but she seemed to like it, as well.

  Kat plumped up her pillows and sat with her, reading. Caer popped in to see her, too, then went downstairs for lunch, since Amanda had joined her husband in the dining room. Amanda was completely charming not only to Sean but to her, then left for a pedicure. Zach returned to the house in time to enjoy some of the cod, peas and parsley potatoes Clara had prepared for the meal.

  With Zach there, Caer excused herself to sit with Bridey. When Caer arrived, Kat went down to spend some time with her father, and Caer realized that she and Kat had somehow formed a silent team.

  One of them was always watching out for Sean.

  They were both determined that Sean had to be protected—Caer because she was open to the possibility of danger and Kat because she was certain Amanda was nothing short of evil personified.

  Bridey had her eyes closed when Caer sat down at her side and took her hand. She remembered how Bridey had accosted her that first night in the kitchen. She had convinced Bridey that she was there only to protect Sean, but she knew Bridey was still suspicious of her, just as Zach was, even though neither one of them could have said what was behind the feeling.

  “You know, there are all manner of stories out and about,” Bridey said, and Caer realized that the old woman had opened her eyes and was looking at her.

  “It’s said, you know, that a banshee can be granted human form. That she can know again what it was like when she was flesh and blood, if she is sent to watch over one who is not intended to die.”

  “That must be nice for them,” Caer said lightly.

  Bridey was smiling. “They feel as they once felt. For in taking on human form, they are once again cursed with human emotion.”

  “Is that such a bad thing?” Caer asked.

  “No, not entirely. But sometimes it hurts to feel,” Bridey said softly. “Of course, some emotions are genuinely ugly.”

  “Well, life is good and bad, isn’t it? And we need the ugly to be able to see the beautiful, do we not?” Caer said.

  Bridey squeezed her hand. “Are you here for me?” she asked.

  “What do you mean? I’m sitting here with you. Or do you mean, did I come from Ireland to be with you? I came with Sean, remember?”

  Bridey’s smiled deepened. “Child, I haven’t gone daft. I mean, are you here for me?”

  “I…”

  Bridey stared hard at Caer, then shifted her gaze to a point over her shoulder. Caer turned quickly and saw that Zach had come into the room.

  To her surprise, she felt vulnerable. Whatever he had overheard, she doubted it would mean anything to him. What bothered her was that she kept hearing Bridey’s words about emotion and how it could hurt.

  And in fact it did hurt.

  She had been fascinated by him from the start. And as she had come to know more about him, she only liked him more and more. His eyes, the way his hair fell across his forehead, the color and texture of it. She liked the movement in his face when he flashed a grin, and she loved the tone of his voice. His walk. The kindness and affection that touched his features whenever he looked at Bridey. His respect for others, his patience. His intelligence and sense of responsibility. The fact that he was clearly a man who would do anything for the people who mattered to him.

  She was attracted to him. She wanted to touch. To feel.

  To know all the vitality and heat that were part of him, to hear him speak words of passion to her as he moved against her in the dark.

  “What’s this I hear? You can’t get sick before Christmas, Bridey,” he said, coming over to the bed and planting a kiss on her forehead. “We have to get you over this thing right away.”

  Bridey laughed, but her laugh became a cough. “Here, take a sip of water,” Caer said, quickly rising to help Bridey with the water. Zach was next to her. Touching her. It was as if she could feel his heartbeat. He breathed, and she breathed in time with him.

  She set the water down when Bridey had finished, and quickly backed away.

  “I’m all right,” Bridey assured them both.

  Zach looked at Caer with concern, voicing a silent question.

  “The doctor has been in, and she’s taking an antibiotic,” Caer said.

  Zach nodded.

  Bridey waved a hand dismissively. “Get out of here, both of you. I’m going to take a wee nap now.”

  “A nap, and don’t forget your medicine,” Zach said.

  She waved him off. He stood in the doorway and watched as Caer moved back over to the bed, drawing the covers up. As she leaned down, Bridey whispered to her, “Eddie is dead. I know he is. I saw him. Did you come because of Eddie?”

  “Bridey, I swear, I know nothing about Eddie,” Caer said, hoping Zach couldn’t hear them. She touched Bridey’s cheek and smiled reassuringly.

  Bridey caught her hand and squeezed it. “You’re a sweet child,” she said simply. “Now, go. Get out of here, so I can rest.”

  Caer joined Zach in the hallway. He was frowning. “When did this all happen?” he asked, as she closed the door.

  “I think she just woke up this morning with sniffles and that cough. The doctor saw her when he came to check on Sean, so she’s in good hands.”

  He nodded. “Good. Thanks.”

  She stared up at him, uncomfortable. She wanted to step away, or step closer, forget time and place and all convention, and cup her hand around his face, feel his flesh beneath her fingertips. Wanted to step closer and press herself against him, rise on her toes and touch her lips to his. She saw it, felt it so clearly, that a flush rose to her cheeks.

  She stepped back.

  “Hey, want to come with me?” he asked her.

  “Um…where?”

  “Eddie’s house.”

  “Oh? I, uh, I shouldn’t. I should keep an eye on Sean.”

  “No need. He’s going out with Kat. They’ll be gone at least an hour. He wants to do some Christmas shopping. It seems the doctor gave him the okay to get out a bit, so long as he doesn’t overdo things.”

  “Yes. He said Sean’s doing well and can start easing back into day-to-day life.”

  Zach nodded. “Sounds good.” He smiled. “So come on. Let’s go to Eddie’s house and see if we can find out what’s going on.”

  She had to smile back. “We? You mean you trust me? Really?”

  “Not really. Just where Sean is concerned. So, are you coming with me?”

  She nodded, trying to not to let herself feel bad that he still distrusted her. “Aye, that I am. Thank you. I’ll grab my coat.”

  Eddie’s house was only a couple of blocks away. It was a rustic nineteenth-century saltbox, small, but big enough, and with plenty of charm. A huge leath
er sofa faced the fireplace, and a reinforced rolltop desk held his computer. He apparently liked TV; his plasma screen was huge. Caer noted that he had dozens of DVDs, virtually all of them documentaries on the American Revolution, sailing, treasure hunting, archeology and the like.

  “He did love history, didn’t he?” she noted.

  “He sure did.”

  Zach went straight for Eddie’s computer. “I talked to Sean. He and Eddie have spent years studying their favorite Rhode Island native son together. His name was—”

  “Nigel Bridgewater,” Caer supplied.

  Zach looked at her in surprise. “Yes. How did you know?”

  “Sean told me about him when he was in the hospital in Dublin.”

  “Ah,” Zach said, and turned back to the computer.

  “Just look around and see what you can see,” he told her.

  “All right.”

  “The police were here, so I don’t think you’ll find much of anything, but it’s worth a try. I’d love to find out exactly what he’d been up to before he went out.”

  Zach was already scrolling through data as he spoke, so she started looking more carefully through Eddie’s books and DVDs. Most were on the Revolution. Some were on the Civil War, and some were on history that was closer to home for her. There was a biography of the first president of the Irish Republic, Eamon de Valera, and another on Brian Boru, and the Vikings in Ireland.

  “Nigel Bridgewater was something of a northern Swamp Fox,” Zach said, talking absently as he worked. “He knew the northern waters like the back of his hand. He’d been a Royal Navy man at one time, and then he opened a print shop…. He took all kinds of letters and documents up and down the East Coast, and he even carried payroll at times. Legend has it that not long before his capture, he met with a French ambassador before the French were fully committed to the American cause, and received a large sum in gold, silver and jewels to be delivered to the Continental Congress. The British knew about him for years, but he eluded them time and time again. He was young—only twenty-six—when he was finally apprehended. And he was caught because his ship—a fast moving sloop too light to be heavily armed—was outgunned in Rhode Island Sound. The ship went down in flames, but the British captured him. And they were furious with him. He’d made a fool of them too many times. He was taken off the ship before it could sink, brought down to Boston, given a sham of a trial and hanged on the spot. They say he was tortured first, but that nothing the British did could make him talk. He died without telling them anything they wanted to know. He knew the names of American spies throughout the Colony, and even in Britain, but he never revealed a single one.”

  “How extraordinary,” Caer said. “What courage. But if he was caught and hanged, what’s the big mystery?”

  “Most people believe that the treasure and his last dispatches went down with his ship in the Sound. The ship has never been discovered. Of course, it’s deep out there, and cold, but they’ve found the Titanic, so it’s possible that one day his ship will be found, too. The thing is, some people say that he was afraid he might meet up with the British on that particular trip. They believe that before he set out he hid the treasure and all the letters he was carrying somewhere around Rhode Island. If so, though, there’s no record of it. His men went down with his ship, or were killed outright in the fighting.”

  “Do you think it’s possible that Eddie figured out where the treasure was?” Caer asked.

  “I don’t know. I think he might have found some kind of clue, at least. On his calendar, at the office, he made a note on Christmas Day about a gift for Sean. He wrote ‘Sean will know.’ So I’m assuming Eddie found out something Sean wanted to know, and that Eddie’s gift was going to be that knowledge.”

  Caer had been trailing her fingers over the rows of books and DVDs. She paused suddenly, staring at something stuck between two books.

  Frowning, she tugged at it.

  “Zach.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I think it was more than knowledge that Eddie intended Sean to have,” she said.

  “Why?” he asked, turning around, then getting up to join her.

  She showed him what she had found: the remnants of a sheet of wrapping paper and a courier receipt.

  Zach’s fingers brushed hers as he took the receipt. “It’s insured, but it’s coming parcel post,” Zach said.

  “What do you think he sent? Not just information, right?”

  Zach looked at her. “No, definitely not. Not if it weighed twenty-five pounds, five ounces.”

  11

  “We’re going to have to wait until it arrives,” Sean said pragmatically, when they showed him what they’d found.

  “But it’s…in the system somewhere,” Caer said, looking hopefully at Zach.

  He shook his head, smiling. “I doubt that even Aidan’s FBI buddies can break into the postal system, Caer.” He shook his head. “Leave it to Eddie. He would trust the mail.”

  “I can’t even get the electric bill half the time,” Sean said.

  “Oh no, you mean this could be lost in the mail forever?” Caer said.

  Sean laughed. “Probably not. But it is frustrating. We’re just going to have to wait until it gets here, then we’ll know what he sent.”

  “It should come soon,” Zach reasoned.

  “It’s almost Christmas, don’t forget. They’ll be rushed off their feet,” Sean warned.

  “Even so…” Zach said thoughtfully, figuring the time since Eddie had disappeared.

  Still not quite a week.

  “Even so. Yes, hopefully, we’ll see it soon,” Sean said.

  Sean yawned and stretched. “Well, I think I’m off for a nap. I told Kat I’d spend some time with her tonight. She wants to try out a few new songs on me.” He looked over at them, and Zach realized they were both staring at Sean with concern.

  He sighed. “Look, you two, you can’t watch me all the time. Please, I’m not a fool. I’m taking everything very slowly and very carefully, all right?” He shook his head. “It’s like I’m the king or something—pretty soon you’ll be thinking I need a food taster.” He groaned. “Oh, God, stop looking at each other like you think that might be a good idea.”

  Caer shifted in her chair, looking away silently, leaving it to Zach to reply.

  “Sean, it’s just that—” he began.

  “Maybe whoever killed Eddie is trying to kill me,” Sean said flatly. At their shocked looks he added, “We all suspect that, and hell, it’s better just said out loud. At least, between the three of us.”

  “Where do we go from here?” Caer asked.

  “We wait. There’s nothing else to do,” Sean said.

  “I’m getting back into Eddie’s computer,” Zach said. “He knew something, and he’d been somewhere. I have to figure out what and where.”

  “Let it rest for the night,” Sean said. “Mull things over. You can get back to it tomorrow, when you’ll be fresh.”

  “But—” Zach started to protest.

  “I’m telling you. Let it go for now. You’ll be better off. Now,” Sean said, “you two need to go out. Shake all this off. The mind, like the body, works better when you move it around a bit.”

  “Out?” Caer said. “We’ve just been out.”

  “No, no. I mean out,” Sean said. “Have dinner somewhere. Go listen to some music. It’s a beautiful day, it’s supposed to be a beautiful night. It may get up to forty-five. I’ll be with my daughter, who has decided that she has to stick to me like glue. Not that I don’t love to be her sounding board. It makes a father proud, and I don’t want you around, stealing my thunder. So I’m ordering you both, get out for the night.”

  “But—” Zach began again.

  “Amanda is having dinner with the women from the garden club. She won’t be back until late herself,” Sean said.

  Zach looked at Caer. She was staring at Sean, and she seemed to be blushing.

  “It’s all right by me,” Zach
said. “Caer?”

  “I have to say, I don’t seem to be working very hard,” she said quietly.

  Sean laughed. “In my mind, you’ve gone above and beyond.”

  She still hadn’t looked at him, Zach thought, just as she finally turned to him.

  “I guess I’ll go change, then,” she said.

  Zach smiled slowly, then laughed. “Sean, are you going to tell us where we should go, too?”

  “Sure. American Pie,” Sean said. “It’s a new place up on the highway. And after dinner, stop of at McCafferty’s. They have a jazz quartet up from Louisiana. Give Caer a taste of the country along with her meal.”

  “All right,” Zach said doubtfully. “I still don’t like the idea of leaving—”

  “I’ll set the alarm, and I’ll be with Kat, plus Clara and Tom are right out back. And I’ll phone you if anything comes up. All right?”

  “All right,” Zach said. “Just one more thing.”

  “What now?” Sean demanded impatiently.

  “Just how dressy is this place?”

  Caer was glad she’d gone shopping in Dublin. She wasn’t even sure why—except that she’d been leaving for the holidays—but she’d purchased a long-sleeved, cobalt-blue slinky cocktail dress and appropriately delicate heels to go with it. Once she was dressed, she played with makeup, washed it off, then heard a knock at her door.

  It was Kat, whose only response was, “Wow.”

  Caer blushed. Again. “Thanks.”

  “Are you crying?” Kat asked her, perplexed.

  “Crying? Oh. No, I just washed my face. The makeup wasn’t right.”

  “Well, sit, I’ll give you a hand.”

  Caer sat.

  Kat went to work. A few minutes later she stepped back to survey her handiwork. “You look perfect,” she said.

  “Thanks,” Caer said, and blushed yet again.

  “And you really don’t know it, do you? That’s why you blush so much.” Kat laughed suddenly, a touch of wickedness in the sound. “I have to tell you, I loved it when you walked in here with my dad and Zach. I could just see how much it burned Amanda to have you around.”