“MRS. MYRIE, MY NAME IS Lockwood Nightingale. I need to have a word with you.”
Michael faced the man and took one step, enough to put himself between Nightingale and Rohan’s grandmother. “Perhaps this isn’t the right time.”
The solicitor stood his ground. “Mr. Graham, although I can see no reason for this to be any of your concern, perhaps you can suggest a better opportunity for a discussion between Mrs. Myrie and myself.”
“I can’t say.” Michael kept his voice calm but it was sheathed in steel. There was something about the man’s elitist attitude that rubbed him the wrong way. Getting money or being born into money just didn’t agree with some people. “But this is definitely not the time or the place.”
Nightingale peered past Michael at the old woman. “We could let Mrs. Myrie speak for herself.”
“About what?” Nanny stood and approached, but she didn’t step past Michael’s side.
“I represent Mr. Aleister Crowe, Mrs. Myrie.”
“The man that put my grandson in that bed?”
Nightingale froze for just a moment, but he didn’t bat an eye. “Quite.”
Nanny’s face turned hard. “Is Mr. Crowe too afraid to speak to me himself?”
“I advised him not to.”
“Why would you do that?”
“I thought it wouldn’t be prudent.”
“So you’re protecting him.”
Michael had to work to keep a grin off his face. Apparently Rohan’s grandmother didn’t take nonsense from slick solicitors.
“I wouldn’t say that I was protecting him, Mrs. Myrie.”
“Let me say it for you.” Nanny crossed her arms and regarded Nightingale as though he were something repugnant.
“There are legal matters that need attending to. I thought perhaps we might address them. I am in a position to ensure that Mr. Crowe is not interested in bringing criminal charges against your grandson in return for an agreement that your grandson won’t pursue a civil matter regarding the shooting.”
“Mr. Nightingale, was it?”
Nightingale nodded, and he preened just a little. Obviously he liked the sound of his own name.
“For the record, and you can quote me on this, there is nothing civil about shooting an unarmed man.” Nanny’s voice was as harsh as a whipcrack.
The burly policeman standing at the door chuckled, then covered the noise with a cough.
Nightingale glared at the man but didn’t say anything. He swiveled his attention back to Nanny with laser intensity. “Before you insist on making anything personal of this, you might want to consider your grandson’s future. If he comes out of that coma—”
“When he comes out of the coma.”
“—do you really want him spending the next several years in prison for breaking and entering?”
“Mr. Nightingale, I may look like an old woman to you, and my grandson may look like he’s on his deathbed, but that’s not the case. I’m not a stupid person and Rohan hasn’t stopped fighting. I know that Mr. Aleister Crowe can’t stop a criminal court from pressing charges if it wishes to, and my grandson’s fate was decided the moment he stepped into that house. You have nothing to offer me. You only want me to release your employer.”
Nightingale sniffed at that. “Aleister isn’t my employer. He’s my friend.”
“You’ll excuse me my rudeness due to my age, which you’ve already sought to take advantage of, but I know an employee when I see one. You work for people, Mr. Nightingale. No matter how much money you make and how much of a rich veneer you put on, that’s not going to change. You think like an employee.”
Nightingale flushed red.
“Please don’t contact me in the future, Mr. Nightingale. I will definitely be far less cordial than I am today. If you need to get in touch with me regarding legal matters, I’ll have my attorney contact you.”
“Do you have a solicitor?” Nightingale struggled to save face.
“I’m sure Mr. Graham can help me sort one out.”
Michael smiled. “It would be my pleasure.”
“Mrs. Myrie—”
The policeman turned toward Nightingale. “Sir, the lady has been very polite, in my opinion, and it’s my opinion that matters here. Now, she’s gently told you to shove off, so I’d be for shoving off if I was you. Otherwise I might be inclined to point out she could file a harassment complaint and have you carried down to the police station.”
Nightingale didn’t say anything further, but he fired one of his engraved business cards into the air.
Eyes and hands trained by thousands of hours of gaming, Michael plucked the card from the air and made the feat look effortless. “We’ll be in touch, Mr. Nightingale.”
The solicitor strode away.
Nanny patted the policeman on the arm. “Thank you, Officer.”
The man smiled and winked at her. “It was my pleasure, madam. I don’t care for a puffed-up popinjay like that one. And you’ve enough troubles without him adding to them.”
Taking Michael by the arm, Nanny turned him around and walked back to the bed. “Michael, I know that you might believe I’m a frail old woman—”
“Actually, Nanny, I stand corrected.”
“Good. I’m glad that we’ve got that out of the way.” Nanny stopped at the bed. “I know Inspector Paddington will wish to speak with me.”
“He’s already mentioned that.”
“The quicker we get that over with, the better. That way, the inspector can mark that off his to-do list and move on to whatever else he has on his plate. We need him out of the way.”
“We do?”
“Perhaps that was presumptuous of me. I hope to find out more about what drove Rohan to invade the Crowe house that night. He wouldn’t have gone there unless he had a reason.”
“I agree.”
“Then I’ll need to start looking for those answers.”
“I’d love to help.”
“We’d love to help,” Molly said as she walked through the doorway to the room. “No one else I know can keep Michael out of trouble.”
Nanny smiled at that. “I’m sure you can’t keep him completely out of trouble.”
“Perhaps not.” Molly smiled ruefully. “But no one does it better.”
“I would rather not meet the inspector on his home territory, either,” Nanny continued. “Somewhere away from the police department, I should think. And away from prying eyes.”
“You know, I believe I have just the place.”
Nanny’s eyes twinkled. “I’m not surprised.”
“How about dinner at our house?”
“Home-court rules?”
“Of course.”
Michael shook his head in amazement. Nanny Myrie and Molly had already stepped in sync. Paddington had no idea what he was in for.
“MOLLY, I CAN GET A ROOM in one of the bed-and-breakfasts in Blackpool. Please don’t go to any trouble for me.”
Leading the way up to the second-floor guest room, Molly shook her head. “Actually, you wouldn’t be able to. With all the construction going on in Blackpool, housing has become a bit of a problem.” She opened the door to the bedroom.
Nanny stepped into the room and gazed around. “Oh my, this is marvelous.”
Molly knew that and took pride in it. Thorne-Shower Mansion had a long history in the community. She and Michael had been excited to purchase the home and had done it over according to their tastes without losing any of the original charm. A four-poster bed occupied the room with a vanity, wardrobe, small table and chairs and a recliner. Molly had redone the room in sea-foam green and accented it with shells.
“Michael insisted on setting up an entertainment center.” Molly opened the unit’s doors to reveal a large plasma screen. “You’ve got more TV channels here than you’ll find at any bed-and-breakfast in town, and movies are also available.”
“I doubt there will be much time for television.”
“But if there is, you’re fixed up.” Molly opened the door to the bathroom. “This is one of the rooms with a full bath. And you’ll find extra towels and blankets here.” She pointed to the small linen closet. “If you need anything else, please don’t hesitate to ask. Michael and I both want your stay with us to be as comfortable as possible.”
“Thank you for this, Molly.” Nanny hugged her.
“It’s my pleasure. I’m sure Michael and Irwin will be up with your bags shortly. Now, if you’re set, I’m going to help Iris in the kitchen.”
“Give me just a few minutes to freshen up and I’ll join you.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Nonsense.” Nanny waved away any objections. “Give me something to do with my hands, child. Otherwise I’ll worry myself to death.”
“All right. I’ll see you in a little while.” Molly left the room and closed the door behind her. She wondered if she would have the same kind of fortitude to see things through if she faced all that the older woman did. Then she realized that Nanny didn’t have a choice.
MICHAEL ENTERED THE KITCHEN, headed for the large side-by-side refrigerator and took out a beer. He twisted the cap off and expertly fired it into the trash bin. He drank and looked out into the spacious backyard.
“Hello, Michael.” Iris Dunstead stood at one of the islands in the center of the room and sliced vegetables with staccato precision. She was a thin, dapper woman in her early seventies. She wore her white hair short and tonight sported a cook’s apron over a deep green dress.
“Hello, Iris. The slave driver isn’t around?”
“I heard that.” Molly stepped out of the walk-in cooler with attached freezer. Someone in Thorne-Shower’s past had loved to entertain and had installed the huge units and kitchen area. Molly carried a tray of marinated steaks.
“Well, you weren’t meant to.”
“As punishment, you’re going to cook the meat.”
“And if I’d quietly drunk my beer instead of making that comment?”
“Oh, you’d still have cooked the meat.”
Mrs. Dunstead laughed.
Molly handed Michael the tray of steaks and lightly kissed him. “Make certain you feel properly guilty. Nanny and I decided we wanted to help Iris in the kitchen instead of waiting around with nothing to do.”
“And you decided I needed something to do, as well.”
“I did.”
“Any particular way you want these prepared?” Michael smelled the lime juice, garlic, oregano, cumin and chipotle peppers in the marinade. “Adobo?”
“Adobo.”
“They’re going to cook fast once I get started.”
“I’ll let you know when.” Molly removed a bunch of salad ingredients from the refrigerator and closed the door with her hip. “You’ll at least have time to finish your beer.”
“You’re a love, Mrs. Graham. Truly you are.” Michael plopped down at the small breakfast table in the corner and took another sip of his beer.
“You got the rest of Nanny’s things carried upstairs?” Molly split a lettuce head with a practiced swipe of a knife.
“Yes. The way that woman stood up to Lockwood Nightingale was impressive, but I was even more impressed with her packing. You would have taken at least three times as many bags if we were going anywhere.”
Molly stopped what she was doing and pointed the knife at him. “You do realize I’m armed?”
“I blame the weather. It’s got me off my game.”
Molly returned to her task. “Inspector Paddington?”
“Will be here as requested.”
“Good. Did he have any problems with the arrangement?”
“Not once he realized no other arrangements were forthcoming. After that, I think he cozied up to the idea of a free dinner.”
“An elegant dinner.”
“Once I perfectly cook these steaks, I’m sure that’s what it will be.”
“Is there a humble bone in your body, Michael Graham?”
“Of course there is. I haven’t misplaced it.” Michael opened a file on his iPhone and pulled up images of the 3D model he’d put together of Blackpool as it had been when Charles Crowe, Aleister’s ancestor, had lived.
The doorbell rang.
Michael flicked through the programs available on his mobile and pulled up a security-camera view of the main gates. Inspector Paddington’s small car sat there. “Well, the inspector has arrived.”
“Let him in. When you get back, we’ll be finishing up and you can put the steaks on.”
“Sure. Just don’t let him do too much talking to Nanny when I’m not here.”
Michael opened the audio connection to the front gates. “Good evening, Inspector. Won’t you drive ahead? I’ll meet you outside.” He tapped the security button that opened the gates.
In response Paddington said, “We found out who the dead man really was.”
Before Michael could ask the obvious question, Paddington engaged his car’s transmission and drove up.
Michael glanced out the window and watched the inspector’s car follow the winding road to the main house. “Apparently Inspector Paddington is developing a sense of the theatrical, as well.”
Molly frowned. “Or he wants to see how we react when we hear the news.”
Iris raised an eyebrow. “If it’s too bad, we can always withhold dessert.”