Dead in the Water (Kate Ryan Mysteries Book 10) (7 page)

Chapter 7

After convincing Maggie about the weekend and eating two cinnamon rolls, I was ready for a nap. When I got back to the office, Hannah and Costello greeted me at the door.

“Did ya tell her about the weekend?” Costello asked.

“Did she see the ring?” Hannah asked frantically.

I walked in between them, as if I was parting the Red Sea, and made my way to my desk. “Yes,” I said to Costello. “And definitely no,” I said to Hannah, who sighed with relief. “And if she did, then she’s a good liar, which she ain’t.”

“Thank God.” Hannah laughed and sat behind her desk. “She scared the life out of me.”

“At least the ring question has been answered,” Costello said.

“And where to get the wedding cake,” I said, suddenly hungry again.

“What do you mean?” Costello asked.

“Lidia Walinski.”

“Ah, very good idea,” Hannah said. “Lidia will do a wonderful job.”

“I thought so. And thank you again, Hannah. I think the ring is a perfect idea, and Maggie will love it so much she’ll be bawling like the rest of us,” I said.

“I’m very glad.” Hannah sighed happily and picked up a magazine. “Then we can get to the fun part. A wedding dress.”

I immediately froze. “I am not wearing a dress.”

She laughed so hard, I thought she’d fall off her executive chair on her executive arse. “Not you! Oh, I can see you in a wedding dress.”

It wasn’t that funny. But Costello laughed along. “With her Hawaiian shirt underneath and flip-flops.”

I glared as my good friends laughed at my expense. “Amusing?”

“Oh, very much so, dear,” Hannah said, flipping through her magazine. “Have you given much thought as to where you want to get married?”

“I have given no thought. So I have no idea. But we have time. We’re not in any rush here. I haven’t even asked her yet.” I absently rubbed my sternum. “God, I hope I’m doing the right thing.”

“You know you are,” Hannah said. “You would never have brought it up if you didn’t. I know you that well.”

“You do, huh?” I sighed. “I’m glad someone does.”

“You think too much,” Hannah said as she continued looking through
Vogue
. “Ooh. I like that dress.”

Costello struck a thoughtful pose. “Have ya given any thought of what you’ll do if she says no?”

Hannah peered at me over her reading glasses and waited. I hadn’t thought of that, either.

“I suppose I’ll just jump overboard,” I said with a shrug.

“That’s an idea.” Costello nodded.

“Then you’d better take Margaret with you because she’ll be unbearable to live with afterward,” Hannah said dryly as she resumed her reading. “But my mother’s ring had better be in that stateroom.”

Costello laughed. “Ryan, Hannah’s right. Ya think too much. Maggie will say yes. Any fool can see how much she loves ya and you her. I’m happy for both of ya.”

“Thanks, Costello. You’re right about one thing. I adore that woman. So much it scares me.”

“And there’s the rub,” Hannah said absently. She looked up over her glasses. “You need to trust Margaret, Kate.”

“I trust Maggie. What do you mean?”

Hannah took off her reading glasses. “You’ve been alone too long, dear. And it’s normal to be hesitant. You two have played cat and mouse far too long. You know it’s time, or as I said, you would never have mentioned it. So relax and trust your love and trust Margaret.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said obediently. I knew Hannah was right—I had been alone too long. “Trust has been a big issue for me.”

“I know, dear,” Hannah said softly. “But that’s in the past. You must look forward, or you’ll get stuck in neutral, spinning your wheels.”

“She’s right,” Costello said.

“I know. Okay, enough love talk. Let’s get back to business. Anything new with our case, if there is a case?” I added.

“Nothing. While you were out, I went over the tape and the report again,” Costello said. “Whoever did this really had all his bases covered. He knew what he was doing. This was no random act.”

“I agree. Especially since they couldn’t find the bullet casing. And if he used a silencer, then he’d have plenty of time to look for the casing.”

“Because no one would have heard the shot?” Hannah asked.

“Yeah. Or at least it was muffled enough. But why?” I asked. “What’s this?” I picked up photos and a manila file.

“Oh, last night, I printed out the photos and the pages to the report,” Hannah said, looking around. “Shh. Don’t let Mike know. I don’t want to end up in the slammer.”

“Or the psych ward,” I said, leafing through the report. I glanced up at Hannah, who nodded thoughtfully.

“I’ve never been in a straitjacket. Wasn’t that a movie with Joan—?”

We looked up when the bell above the door jingled. It was Simon Merriweather.

“Speaking of Joan Crawford,” I said, motioning to Simon.

“I understand Samantha Spade works here,” he said in bored, Simon fashion as he walked up to my desk. “What kind of greeting is this?”

I glared at him and sat back. “Why didn’t you call me when you came to Chicago?”

“Ah, I see. We’re going to go all female, are we? So unlike you but very much like me! Well, I was busy, and I was only in town for the evening. I am sorry, Kate. Forgive me?” He placed his hand to his heart, offering an innocent look.

“Yeah, I guess.”

He pulled me into an affectionate hug.

Simon hadn’t changed at all. He still wore his thick wavy salt-and-pepper hair around the nape of his neck. And I swear he still looked like Peter O’Toole with those gray blue eyes of his and the perpetual melancholy gaze. He was a striking man and, of course, impeccably dressed in a lightweight summer jacket and slacks. And yes, the handkerchief dangling helplessly out of his breast pocket matched his socks. Hannah would call the color periwinkle blue—like the ink in her pen. These two would get along famously. God help me.

“Ladies, this is Simon Merriweather,” I said. “Simon, Hannah Winfield, Maggie’s aunt, and Maureen Costello, my partner in crime.”

Simon walked up to Hannah and gracefully took her hand. “Hannah, may I call you Hannah?”

“Oh, I think you must,” she said, glancing at me when he kissed the back of her hand.

“Maggie favors you.”

“Simon, may I call you Simon? That comment begs for elaboration.”

Simon laughed and held her hand. “In a most favorable way. Absolutely. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He turned to Costello then. “And, Maureen, it’s very nice to meet you.”

“Same here,” she said, offering her hand.

Simon raised an eyebrow. “Do I detect an Irish brogue? You’d get along with my chef. She’s from the auld sod, as well.”

“There’s a lot of us floatin’ around,” Costello said.

“Oh, I like this one, Kate,” Simon said, wagging his finger at Costello.

“Simon, please, have a seat.” I offered the chair by my desk.

Simon looked at the chair, then opted for the plush chair by Hannah; she looked decidedly superior at the moment.

“So this is where you solve all the city’s woes?” He looked at the candlestick phone. “Love that.”

“It was my idea,” Hannah said. “Can I get you a cup of coffee? Water?”

“Thank you, Hannah. Nothing stronger?” Simon watched Hannah and smiled. “You strike me as someone who’d have something stronger.”

Hannah glanced at the cabinet next to the coffeemaker. “Well…”

“How about some bottled water for now?” I said.

Simon frowned. “All right. Water would be lovely, please.”

Hannah looked at me; I looked at Costello, who rolled her eyes and walked away.

“Low woman on the totem pole, eh?” Simon asked. “So, Kate, I understand from Matthew that you and the lovely Maggie will be sailing with me on the maiden voyage of
The Queen
,” he leaned toward Hannah, “as I like to call her.”

“Yes, we…Wait. You’re going, too?” I asked.

Simon looked stunned. “Well, of course. It’s my ship.”

“I thought were a silent partner.”

“Oh, Kate. Really. Have you ever known me to be silent?” He waved his hand. “I long for the smell of sea—”

“It’s a lake.”

“And the sea breeze in my face.”

“And the bats in your belfry,” I said dryly.

Simon scowled, rather pouted, and looked at Hannah. “Why is she so glum?”

“It’s the case we’re working on,” Costello offered.

“Scotch?” Simon grinned happily when Hannah laughed.

“Very funny. A client,” I said.

“Ah. I understand. Can’t catch the bad guys?”

“No. There’s something else on Kate’s mind.” Hannah looked at me and smiled.

Simon looked from me to Hannah and back to me. “Okay, I’ll play along since I’ve nothing else to do at the moment. What else is going on in that gumshoe head of yours?”

It’s funny how I open my mouth and Hannah’s voice comes out.

“Kate’s proposing to Margaret on the cruise,” Hannah blurted out…again.

A wisp of a smile graced Simon’s face. “Proposing what?”

“What do you think?” I asked dryly.

“Oh, dear,” he said.

“And it’s a surprise,” Hannah added. “So mum’s the word.”

“Understood,” Simon said. “This is so sudden. Or is it?”

“Heavens, no!” Hannah said. “I thought I’d have to use my cattle prod.”

Simon raised an eyebrow. “I’m not sure which is more disturbing, Hannah. That you would think of using a cattle prod on poor Kate or that you may actually have one that you call your own.” He stood then. “Well, I will leave you to it. With the mention of cattle prods, I fear this conversation is going to take a disconcerting left turn.” He offered his hand to Hannah. “And I mean from you, madam.”

Hannah grinned evilly and took his hand. “Why don’t we meet for dinner tonight?”

“An excellent idea,” Simon said, whirling around to me. “How about Matt’s?”

“Fine,” I said, realizing—once again—how little control I had around here. I stood and walked him to the door.

“Wonderful. Seven? Maureen, you’ll join us, of course? We’ll make a night of it.” He didn’t wait for a response. “See you at seven sharp!”

And then he was gone.

“I like him,” Hannah said.

“You like everybody, Hannah darlin’,” Costello said, setting her attention back to our file.

“Not true,” Hannah asserted, “there’s a certain assistant in the mayor’s office I’m not fond of. He’s a boorish young man.”

“I’ve been thinking about this,” Costello went on. “What do we really know about Chad Henson?”