The Delaney Woman (25 page)

He stood, straight, merciless, a man who knew his own mind. “I'll check around and see if I can move your appointment up on the calendar.”

“I could insist that you sell the house.”

He looked at her evenly. “Is that what want, to sell my home?”

She corrected him. “Our home.”

“You lived here for seven months. I've been here nine years.”

She sighed. “I'm not much for tea this afternoon.”

“I'll manage on my own,” he said.

Claire was about to remind him that Heather had begun to dislike milk, but decided against it. They had managed before her and they would manage when she was no longer here. She would miss the child terribly. It wasn't fair. She'd known the minute her baby was born that she'd wanted nothing more than to go home, raise her daughter and leave the life she'd known behind. It wasn't easily done. Claire had wanted the chance to try again, but it wasn't meant to be.

S
he should have stayed away from the bakery. It was Susan's favorite but in previous years her mother-in- law had been an early riser. At this hour Claire was certain she could make her purchases and vacate the shop safely. She'd miscalculated. Both Susan and Maggie bore down on her, smiles wide, purpose stamped on their Whelan features.

“Hello, Claire.” Susan smiled at her. “It's been a week since we've seen you. Where have you been?”

Claire cleared her throat. “Has it been that long? I didn't realize it.”

“We were coming to invite you to Sharon's first communion,” Maggie said. “I've mentioned it before but you may have forgotten.”

Sharon's first communion. Who in the name of heaven was Sharon?
“Of course I haven't forgotten,” she lied.

“You will remind Tom?”

“Aye. I'll tell him.”

“We'll be having a luncheon after it's over,” Maggie continued. “I have you down for a pudding. Is that all right?”

“Perfectly.”

Dear God. A pudding. Did these people know her at all? How would she manage it? Perhaps she could buy something that looked homemade at the bakery.
Her smile was brittle. “A pudding it will be.”

Susan had said nothing beyond her first greeting. She was looking at her strangely.

Claire moved toward the door. “Lexi is outside. I've got to get her home. I won't forget to remind Tom about the celebration.”

Outside, Claire whistled to the dog, set her package in the basket of her bicycle and pushed away from the curb. The bike wobbled precariously, refusing to right itself. Frustrated, Claire climbed off and looked at the front tire. It was flat.

Behind her, Susan spoke. “That won't get you anywhere.”

“No,” Claire replied. She stared straight ahead.

“Is something wrong?”

Claire saw no point in pretending. “Aye.”

Susan sighed. “I've known you your whole life, Claire. Let me help you.”

Claire shook her head.

“Why not?”

“There's nothing to say. Everything's grand.”

“You're a liar, Claire Donovan. You've always been a liar.”

Claire turned and met her mother-in-law's contemptuous glance. She ignored the challenge.

“Where's Maggie?”

“Gone home.”

Curiosity got the best of her. “Why did you visit me all those years?”

“I diapered your bottom more times than I can count. You married my son. I loved your mother.”

Claire's eyes filled. She clutched the handlebars, unable to speak.

Susan stared at her. “What's got into you, Claire? Is it tears I'm seeing? What have I said that's upset you so?”

Claire shook her head.

“Come now,” Susan said in her determined way. “I'm taking you home. I deserve a few answers and someone is going to give them to me.”

“Tom will be home.”

“I'm taking you to my home. I want you alone for a bit.”

Claire allowed herself to be meekly propelled along the streets and down the road. Susan maintained a soothing flow of conversation that required no response. Claire was grateful. Hearing without listening, she forced herself to keep up, matching her mother- in-law's pace, placing one foot in front of the other. After an interminable walk, much longer than Claire remembered, they were there.

With a grateful sigh, Claire sank into the comfortable couch that hadn't changed since she was a child. It was comforting to lean back, close her eyes and absorb the well-being that she'd always associated with Tom's mother.

Susan left her alone to disappear into the kitchen. After a bit she returned with a tray piled with biscuits, cake and the makings for tea, Susan's remedy for all ailments. Claire smiled. Some things never changed.

“There now.” Susan sat across from her, fortified with a cup of sweet, milky tea. “Don't argue with me, Claire. I want to know everything.”

“Everything?”

“Aye. Don't tell me it's none of my business. After what I've done for you I deserve the truth.”

The truth. Which truth did she want? Would Susan be happy with her truth or with Tom's? Perhaps it was Kellie's truth she preferred.
“I don't know what that is.”

“Of course you do. Tell me how you rousted Kellie Delaney.”

Claire's hands shook. She lifted the cup to her lips. Some of the liquid sloshed over into the saucer. She set it down on the low table in front of her. “Why do you assume that I've done it?”

“Because you're here and she's gone.”

Claire looked down at her hands. “I think that was more Tom's doing than mine. He wasn't terribly enthusiastic about her staying and she's a woman with more than her share of pride. A woman like Kellie, attractive, educated, doesn't need to put up with a man's indecision. She'll find someone else.”

Susan pursed her lips. “Maybe not. Sometimes it doesn't work that way.”

Claire looked away. “Are we here to talk about Kellie Delaney?”

“I want to know your intentions. Will you stay here in Banburren?”

“Why wouldn't I?”

“My son doesn't want you here.”

“That's his problem.”

Susan looked resigned. “Claire. What will you do with your life? You were never happy here.”

Claire ignored the question. “You're very angry with me, aren't you, Susan?”

“Very.”

“Do you miss Kellie?”

“Aye. She was good for Tom and for Heather.”

“What was she really like?”

“Strong and sweet at the same time. Spunky and yet sensitive. There was something that set her apart. Tom said she didn't belong here.” Susan tilted her head to think. “But I think she did.”

“Is he in love with her?”

“Aye. I see no point in sparing you, Claire. You brought a great deal on yourself. My thinking is that you deserve a bit of pain after what you've caused.”

Claire's eyes filled with tears. “I'm sorry, Susan. You have no idea how sorry I am.”

Susan softened. She reached across the distance that divided them and squeezed her hand. “I'm sure you are, lass. I'm sure you are. I'm not one to place blame. We all have something to be sorry for.”

Tom was conscious of a bitter taste in his mouth. It had been there since he left home this morning. He had no stomach for his errand. But it was unavoidable. Kellie needed answers and she wouldn't wait forever. Dennis McGarrety was a law unto himself. He had nothing to lose. Tom wanted to assure him of his silence. He hoped that would be enough and that Kellie would be left alone.

McGarrety ground out his cigarette and motioned Tom to a chair. They were in a house in West Belfast, shabby on the outside, comfortable within. “We have a bit of a problem.”

Tom sat down and waited for him to continue.

“Kellie Delaney has approached Davies.”

Tom felt the heat rise from his chest to his face. Had there ever been a woman so stubborn? He'd specifically told her to leave it alone. He willed himself not to react. “So?”

“She's made a nuisance of herself, Tom. We can't have her making accusations about Kevin Davies.”

“She knows nothing about him,” Tom said. “I've told her very little. She's harmless. Without me, no one has anything.”

McGarrety smiled thinly. “Why are you here?”

“I've built a life for myself. I want no part of the past. Kevin Davies is a decent man. I've no reason to tell anyone anything.”

“What if you've no choice?”

“How could that be?”

“What if you're called into court and sworn to tell the truth?”

“That isn't likely to happen, Dennis. No one knows that Davies and I worked together, no one except you.”

“True.” McGarrety stared at the wall. “And Claire and now Kellie Delaney.”

Tom's head spun. Somewhere, outside this room, normal people went about the business of living. They woke to the alarm, ate their porridge and tea, kissed their wives, went off to work on the train and traded jests with other blokes. He wanted to be there, but first the ugliness here must be sorted out. “Are you suggesting that Kellie would bring up a suit?”

“I'm saying that Kellie Delaney has reason to want this matter exposed. She's proven that by going to Davies.”

“If she had anything she wouldn't have bothered to go there. She would have called the police.”

McGarrety thought a minute. “Good point.” He looked at Tom. “Will you keep silent even if you're called up in an investigation?”

Tom looked his nemesis directly in the eye. “Aye.”

McGarrety nodded. “Your word is good enough for me, Tom.”

“There are conditions.”

“There always are.”

“I don't want Kellie hurt.”

“Then she'll have to keep her mouth shut.”

“I'll tell her.”

“Davies is having a dinner party for his contributors. Kellie will be there.”

“How do you know?”

“Caroline Davies was quite upset over Kellie's allegations regarding her husband. She wants her to see Kevin in a different light. She issued her a personal invitation and Kellie has accepted.”

Tom didn't ask how McGarrety came by his information. He already had a good idea. “Will you be there?”

McGarrety smiled thinly. “I wouldn't miss it.”

A flock of sheep blocked the single lane road leading to Banburren. Tom relaxed his hands on the wheel and mulled over his conversation with Dennis McGarrety. Objectively, he could see the man's point. Kellie was a threat and a man like McGarrety would not be threatened. In fact, McGarrety would likely want to solve this problem the old-fashioned way— with a bullet.

He stared out the window at the lad herding the sheep, a country sort with freckled cheeks, wild hair and a grin that brought the sun with it. Had his own life ever been so simple? Perhaps, once, a long time ago. As he gazed at the scene before him, Tom's resolve hardened. He
would
reclaim that simplicity and he would start with Claire.

He would begin with trying to expedite Claire's dole agreement and find her a safe haven, and then he planned to get on with the rest of his life.

The road was now nearly clear of sheep. The boy lifted his hand. Tom waved back and pressed down on the gas pedal. Banburren was twenty miles away. With luck he would make it before dark. It would still be early enough to arrange for a flight. He was going to England. If Kellie insisted on taking matters into her own hands, he would tell her exactly what she was up against.

Kellie drummed her fingers on the table and stared out at the Thames. The tea she'd ordered twenty minutes before was tepid and her temper was beginning to rise. John Griffith was already late by nearly thirty minutes. She would give him another five and then—what? What would she do? Go to the police, or better yet, the press? The BBC would crucify Kevin Davies. The thought calmed her. She had alternatives to John Griffith and Scotland Yard.

She was nearly out the door when he walked in. “I'm terribly sorry, Miss Delaney. I underestimated the time. I hope you weren't waiting long.”

“As a matter of fact, I've been here for quite some time.”

He frowned. “You're angry. Shall we reschedule our appointment or do you have time to see me now?”

Damn the man. She needed him. Already he had the advantage over her and he knew it.
“I am angry, Mr. Griffith. My brother was murdered and your department has done nothing at all to bring in his killer. I don't understand. Why am I the only one who cares? I've told you about Kevin Davies. Why can't you move forward with the information I've given you?”

Griffith pointed to a bench near the water. “Shall we sit down? I've an idea I'd like to share with you.”

When they were seated he explained. “If we confronted Mr. Davies, he would deny that he'd ever spoken to you. It would be his word against yours and, Miss Delaney, the result would be in his favor. He's a popular politician and you are—” He paused.

“Not that important,” she finished for him.

He nodded. “I'm afraid so.”

She was beyond taking offense. “You said you had an idea.”

He nodded. “I'd like you to wear a wire to the Davies' dinner party. Engage Davies in conversation. Get him to refer to the murders he told you about. If he says something incriminating on tape, we'll have grounds for an investigation.”

“How would that work?”

“You'll wear a small microphone taped to your chest underneath your clothing. It will transmit your conversation to a tape recorder.”

“Where will the tape recorder be?”

“Inside a lorry parked near the Davies' home.”

“Where will you be?”

“There will be three of us inside the lorry—a driver, a technician and me.” He ticked them off on his fingers. “I must warn you that it could be dangerous. On occasion the microphone has malfunctioned.”

“What does that mean?”

“It makes a whistling sound.”

“How often does that happen?”

“Hardly ever, but it is possible.” He smiled at her. “Are you up for this, Miss Delaney?”

“Is it the only way?”

“I believe so.”

“All right, I'll do it.”

Kellie stared into the full-length mirror and widened her eyes in surprise. How long had it been since she'd looked at herself? Had she lost weight or was it the dress she'd found at Simone's? The straight lines and tiny darts at the waist emphasized her slimness and the sandals lengthened her legs. She looked tall and slender and quite put together. She'd even gone to some effort with her hair, using a volumizing shampoo and blowing it dry until the edges curved around her face in feathery layers. The small microphone taped to her chest was completely invisible under the soft silk.