One Fool At Least (9 page)

Jack lifted my limp, naked self and said, “You’ll have to keep the broken foot over the side. And no splashing.”

I laughed sleepily as he lowered me in. The water was warm and relaxing. I looked at Jack; he was forever revealing new depths of understanding and compassion. “You are a good man,” I said.

He knelt next to the tub, produced a washcloth from somewhere, and proceeded to rub my skin with gentle circles. I leaned back and closed my eyes. “Jack Shea,” I murmured, and submitted to his gentle massage.

Eventually I felt his lips on my face, first gently, then more desperately seeking my mouth. “Maddy,” he said, his forehead against mine. “When I saw them throw you in that car, it felt like a knife in the gut. I’ll never forget it. And I’ll never forget how brave you were.”

I hadn’t felt brave at all. “I don’t know about that, but I know how glad I was to see you. Maybe this was God’s way of showing us how much we love each other.”

His eyes met mine. “Maybe it was. Maddy, I—”

I pulled his mouth back to mine, suddenly very hungry for him. We shared a delicious kiss, and Jack’s hands started to explore the slippery feel of my skin. “Mmm, Jack,” I moaned.

He grinned against my mouth. “With your leg over the side, you look very… wanton.”

“That’s me,” I agreed, rubbing against him. “Come in here with me.”

“Maddy. I don’t think I should. Let me at least carry you to the bed.”

I sighed. “All right. But I want to wash my hair. It’s got smoke in it.”

Jack gave me one last kiss and pulled away reluctantly. He helped me lean back and wet my hair; when I came back up to hunt for shampoo, I heard a distinct knocking at the door.

My first impulse was fear. I thought I was over it all, but I realized suddenly I didn’t feel safe, not at all. “Jack! Who could that be?”

He stood up.

“Don’t leave me! Don’t leave me in here!” I cried, clutching the shampoo bottle.

“Maddy, just let me look out the window.”

“Then come right back.”

“Okay. Baby, I won’t let anything happen to you. Okay? It’s probably just Pat or Libby, sweetie.” He stroked my hair and left the room. I shampooed half-heartedly, listening for gunshots.

I heard the door open, made out the muffled sound of voices. The door closed again. I sat still, listening for more. Jack appeared, looking solemn. “Maddy, I need to get you dressed. We have a visitor.”

The police, I thought immediately. God, hadn’t they asked me enough questions?

I dunked my head a few times to rinse my hair, and Jack lifted me up, wrapping me in a soft yellow towel the size of my bedspread at home. I liked it. Libby was good at this stuff, I thought. I wrapped my hair in another towel. I found some scented powder in a cabinet next to the tub, and had a little festival, splashing it here and there until I felt quite lovely. Jack had thoughtfully removed a nightgown and a robe from my suitcase, which he now helped me to put on. Then he handed me my crutches and guided me to the living room.

It wasn’t a policeman who sat on our couch, staring moodily into the fire. This man was too young, and rather dirty. He looked at me and his eyes widened in fear or guilt.

I fell back into my chair, and Jack slipped a hassock beneath my foot. “Hello, Slider,” I said.

“You know me,”
he said. He looked older than seventeen. He had a man’s build, and a handsome, rugged face. The only young thing about him was his obvious innocence, even vulnerability. Life hadn’t hardened this boy, although it may have tried.

“I know something happened. I heard Molly crying this afternoon, I heard her saying this was all her fault, that it was all because of… me. I was close by; I’m always close by, to make sure she’s okay.”

Jack stood up. “Would you like something to eat or drink?” He offered Slider the tray of sandwiches and the boy took one, still looking at me.

“Thanks. I know who you are. Molly told me a long time ago that you were coming. You’re her uncle Jack—I met you at the hospital, remember? And you’re his wife. Madeline. Molly told me about you both.” He bit the sandwich, trying to be polite when he was obviously ravenous.

“Pour him some coffee, honey,” I said to Jack. I’d never called him honey before, and it made me feel ticklish inside. Jack looked pleased as he moved to the fireplace and poured a cup.

He handed the coffee to Slider and said, “Listen. I’m not sure why you came here tonight, but I’m glad you did. People are looking for you—”

“No shit,” said Slider with a grin.

“And some people are determined to find you. So determined that they kidnapped Madeline this afternoon the moment she got off the plane.”

“Fell off, actually,” I said, pointing at my foot.

“Oh, man. Oh, man,” Slider said, running a hand through his dirty hair. “I can’t believe this. I’m so sorry.” And he was; I saw it in his expression. I understood what Libby meant about Slider’s lovable nature. His face was really much sweeter than it had looked in the picture, and handsomer, too. “I can’t believe this.” He shoved the last of his sandwich in his mouth and chewed reflectively.

Jack started again. “Slider, what happened in Finn Flanagan’s bar? Why did you run away? Did you see Finn’s murderer?”

Slider took a gulp of coffee and set down his cup. “I didn’t see him. But I talked to Finn. He didn’t—die right away.”

“Oh,
Slider
,” I said.

“I was in the apartment. Finn said he liked to know I was up there, because I could overhear some things, and if anyone ever threatened him, I’d be there to back up his story. You have to know Finn—he was kind of paranoid. I guess with good reason,” he said, looking sad.

“Anyway, that night Finn said he had a lot to do in the bar, but I was welcome to hang in his apartment until he was done. He said some people were coming by for this and that; Finn was always meeting people. Either men, to talk over some of his business schemes, or women, to—well—” He looked at me, rather protectively, I thought.

“Finn allowed you to be around while he was with women?” I asked, shocked.

“Not with him, no. He’d take them upstairs, if things got heavy, and send me down to the office, or just send me home. He had an apartment above the bar. Sometimes they’d just kiss, you know, harmless stuff.” He looked earnest in his desire to defend Finn. Obviously the man had been something of a hero to him. “That night I was lying on a couch in the apartment. I heard voices. The bedroom of his apartment is right above his back room—his office—and there’s this vent that you can hear most everything through. I know he had a meeting with Mr. Wilde. They were in some sort of project together.”

Jack and I exchanged a glance. “Were Randy and Jim there?” Jack asked.

“They were there earlier, having some beers. They were there most nights. Anyway, while he was talking with Mr. Wilde and his son—”

“His son was there, too?”

“Yeah, for a while. He came later, sort of bursting in on the two of them. I don’t think he liked what they were up to. But he’s always mad at his dad about something. The two of them don’t get along much.” Slider thought about this, then continued.

“I think the two of them left. Then I fell asleep. I woke up later, maybe an hour later, because I heard a noise. A pop. It was the gun, I guess. I heard someone yell something. I don’t know if it was Finn or the other guy. Then I heard feet running and the door slam. I was scared, but I ran down to the bar and in the back door. The back room faces the inside of the bar, so I saw Finn right away. He looked like he was dead. I ran to him and called his name, and he opened his eyes. He knew me; he understood what was happening.” Slider’s voice broke slightly, and he reached for the coffee mug to take another sip and compose himself.

“He told me—well, he said he loved me. And then he looked scared, and kind of grabbed my shirt, and he said he wanted me to run. He said, ‘You heard, Slider, so you know you’re in danger. He’ll get you, too. And leave Molly out of it. You don’t want to put her in danger, too.’ He was practically whispering by then. I was crying, and I said, ‘Finn, let me call a doctor.’ But he died there, he died right in front of me.”

I felt sick to hear it, and sad. I saw that even Jack’s eyes were glistening. The reality was that this boy had seen someone die, had witnessed a soul leaving its body. I’d been involved in some frightening investigations; I understood the reality of murder. I’d heard of people being killed, I’d confronted murderers, I’d even seen a man shot before my eyes; but I’d never seen someone die, and I didn’t want to.

I wanted to move closer to Slider, to comfort him, but I was stuck in my chair. Jack read my mind and sat next to the boy on the couch, putting a friendly hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Slider. For all you’ve been through. But you must have known you couldn’t hide out forever.”

“Yeah. I know that. But I was hoping they’d catch the guy. See, Finn thought I knew what had happened. He said, ‘You heard, Slider.’ But I didn’t hear. I fell asleep. I wasn’t awake when he needed me.” Slider wiped at his eyes and stared out the window.

“He didn’t want you to involve Molly, but she’s already involved, Slider. Her whole family is. And from what I’ve heard, they want to help you; they want to be involved. They think of you as their family,” I said gently.

Slider looked up, his face brightening. “I don’t know what I would have done without them, that whole family. Especially Molly,” he said, and I saw devotion in his eyes. This was not some lustful teenage crush.

Jack patted Slider’s arm. “I need to call them now. They’ll want to know you’re all right, and they’ll want to see you.” Slider sat still. “Why did you come here, instead of there, Slider?”

He sighed and looked at me. “I didn’t know what you’d been through. I had heard, from Molly, that you were sort of a detective up in Chicago. I thought I could ask you for help. To help me sort this out without involving her, so that I wouldn’t put her in danger. It’s too late for that, I guess.” Something about his face in that moment, the expression of vulnerability blended with what should have been a man’s bitter experience, brought out my dormant maternal instincts.

“We’ll help you, Slider. Jack and I both will. We’ll help you get to the bottom of this. And so will Jack’s family.” I looked at my husband, and saw, to my surprise, that he felt the same.

“We’ll need to call your father, too,” Jack said, getting to his feet.

“You can’t do that,” Slider said dully.

“Why not? He’s been here several times. He’s very worried about you,” I said.

Slider laughed. “My dad’s not worried about me. He’s worried about money, you can bet that.”

“That’s pretty cynical, Slider,” I said. “I’m sure your dad is concerned—”

“My dad used to be okay. But he’s a drunk, and all he can really think about now is staying drunk. He wants booze, and money for more booze. He lost his job at the power company, and he’s probably almost through his savings. His and Mom’s.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. I exchanged a look with Jack.

Slider sighed. “It’s just the way it is; you don’t have to feel bad about it. My mom died two years ago. That’s when Dad got a lot worse. He found out that I would be eligible to receive the money from my mom’s insurance policy—when I turn eighteen next week. So he’d been after me about why that money was rightfully his. It was a bad scene,” Slider said, too calmly. “Then he somehow found out about Finn, and how he might inherit some as well, and the shit really hit the fan.”

Jack and I looked at him. “What do you mean, he found out about Finn?”

Slider looked surprised. “Didn’t I tell you? Finn wasn’t just my friend. He was my brother.”

Jack and I
stared. “Your brother?” I asked.

“Well, half-brother. When my mom’s lawyer contacted me about her policy, he gave me a safe deposit key. This was maybe six months ago. I went to the bank and opened the box, and there was the policy in there, and also a little diary, and some adoption papers. It turns out, when my mom was nineteen, she got pregnant. She had a little baby, and she gave him up for adoption. She’d found out a few years before she died, from doing some research, that her baby was Finn. She never told him, but she did start going down to the bar every Friday night. She’d have a pina colada, or she’d go to the restaurant and order dinner. A lot of times she’d bring me and my dad, or just me sometimes. She would always say, “I like that Finn Flanagan, don’t you, Slider?” I’d say he was okay. Then after she died I figured out what it was. She wanted me to love my brother, even if she didn’t have the courage to tell me about him.

“So I brought the papers to Finn, and we started hanging out together. He said he was sorry she never told him. He hadn’t been that close to his adoptive mom and dad. And he had always liked Sarah, he said. That’s my mom, Sarah Cardini. Finn said he thought she was classy. She was.”

Slider looked pained, speaking of his dead mother and the loss of the brother he’d only just realized. We sat in silence for a while, giving him some time. Then Jack slapped his hands against his own jeans.

“As my wife said, Slider, we will help you.”

“But what exactly do you need help with?” I asked.

Slider sighed. “I’ve been down to Finn’s place a few times. I still have a key Finn gave me. He still had food there, for one thing. But even though the police took his computer and stuff, I’m looking for a little diary that Finn used to keep. It was a small notebook with a tin cover. He jotted ideas in there, but other stuff, too. He was kind of secretive about it. I told you he was kind of paranoid. I think he hid it, and I think it might have something I need to help me find—you know—who might have wanted him dead. So I need a couple more days, or nights, to look around. Just give me two days, say, before you tell people I’m, you know, alive.”

“Aside from the Sheas, you mean,” I said.

“Yeah, yeah, of course, but no one else. Not even my dad,” he said. “And not the police.”

“Why not?” Jack asked.

“Because it’s public then, first of all, and because—well—Chief Hendricks and Mr. Wilde are real good friends, let’s just say that.”