It was early evening and the gathering at the McKays’ had scarcely gotten underway. Still, Casey could only drive halfway down their street in Woodlawn due to the number of cars parked along both sides of the road.
“Wow, I didn’t expect this,” Claire said, scanning the groups of people on the sidewalk, all making their way to Ryan’s parents’ house, carrying everything from cakes and pies to casseroles and other hot dishes. She glanced over her shoulder at Fiona, who was sitting in the back. “From what you said, I knew that Rose Flaherty was loved, but I didn’t expect this kind of turnout.”
“Neither did I.” Casey parked at the first available empty space and turned off the ignition.
“Well, I did.” Fiona didn’t look a bit surprised. “Rose was a very special and very endearing person. Add to that the fact that the church congregation knows what a great cook and hostess my mom is, and you get a crowd like this.” She looked from Casey to Claire. “I don’t know how you two can look so energetic. I feel like I’ve been hit by a bus.”
From the moment Yoda had completed his tasks, the entire day had been filled with intense work and analysis. Everyone was aware this was a matter of life and death. Ryan had secured Fiona’s iCloud account. What damage had been done was capped. The whole team had closeted themselves in the War Room, where they had plenty of space to operate. Each team member was assigned a folder—photos and texts taking the lead and reviewed by them all—followed by the individual categories of emails, Word documents, Photoshop files with Fiona’s designs, and iMessages.
The interactions with Yoda involved asking him to display all items in that folder and, once he had complied, going through the tedious process of saying, “next, next, next” until something of import was spotted on a particular slide, or “back, back, back” if a previous slide required re-examination. The process became too overwhelming and random, so each folder was further divided into sub-folders, labeled under specific headings, such as Celtic design, specific collections, e.g. Light and Shadows, and personal versus business when it came to texts and emails.
Yoda’s multitasking abilities had astounded Fiona. Clearly, her brother’s AI system was even more brilliant than she’d realized. Ryan truly was a genius and Yoda was a wizard.
Meanwhile, she did her own share of multitasking. She was pulled into every teammate’s work, to answer questions, clarify the importance or lack thereof of a specific slide, and to identify anything potentially critical.
The most upsetting item had turned up right away, during the analysis of the photos. Not only were all of her and Ryan’s exchanges from the previous night there, but a photo dated a few months back showed a picture of Fiona and her mom, standing together in the living room, smiling, and with the Galway sheep tapestry hanging prominently in the background.
It wouldn’t be hard to guess whose house the photo had been taken in. Not with the homey feel that emanated from the entire scene.
Fiona had never been more grateful than she was at that moment, knowing that Al Sheppard, Patrick’s security guy, was safeguarding her parents. Al was both a former FBI agent and a former NYPD homicide detective.
“Where’s Al’s car in this zoo?” she asked now, glancing nervously around.
Casey looked calmly down the street and into the McKays’ driveway. Sure enough, the maroon Corolla Patrick had told her to look for was parked just a few feet from the garage door.
“His car is practically inside your house,” she replied lightly, determined to calm Fiona down. “Remember, he’s been here since early morning. None of the guests had even started baking their casseroles yet.”
“You’re right.” Fiona looked sheepish. “I’m sorry I’m so on edge. Between worrying about my parents, worrying about my own safety, and worrying about how I’m going to answer the thousand questions waiting on the other side of that door, I’m a dead-on-my-feet nervous wreck. Plus, Lara and her parents landed right before we left the brownstone, and I’m not looking forward to the reaction to their townhouse being trashed—especially since I’m the reason for it. I only hope the cleanup team got a lot done today.”
“On all counts, things will be fine,” Claire said with gentle reassurance. “And by the way, I love your earrings. Are those part of the Light and Shadows collection?”
Casey slid a quick sidelong look at Claire. Obviously, she had the same idea about trying to calm Fiona down.
Sure enough, Fiona’s entire demeanor changed. Her fingers went reflexively to her earlobes, touching the white teardrop pearls hanging from the gold Celtic triquetra symbol. “Yes, these are my Trinity knot earrings,” she said with pride. “I finished them earlier this week, and I grabbed them, and all my jewelry, when Ryan and I left my house last night. I took everything—just in case. The place is like an open house while it’s being cleaned up, and anyone could walk in. I wasn’t taking any chances.”
“Well, those are sheer elegance.” Claire studied the stylized Trinity knot with utter fascination. Fiona had taken the symbol down to its bare contours and turned it on its side so one tip was pointing down, and it was from that tip that the pearls hung. The entire outline of the gold earrings themselves was embellished with tiny balls of gold that literally shimmered with light. “Ancient and modern at the same time,” Claire murmured. “I don’t know how you do it.”
“Thanks, Claire. I really needed some positive energy right about now.” Eagerly, Fiona leaned forward in her seat. “And speaking of positive energy, was that what you were picking up on when you said everything would be fine?”
“In this case, what I said was based on my faith in Forensic Instincts and my faith in you.” Claire never lied about her gift. Nor did she make promises to clients that she couldn’t be sure she could keep. “Right now, just concentrate on this gathering. Casey and I will be right there to back you up.”
“I know. You’re both wonderful.” Fiona attempted a smile. “I’m half tempted to announce to my parents that you’re Ryan’s girlfriend, as in singular.”
“Uh, I’d shelve that idea if I were you,” Claire replied, smiling back. “I don’t think your brother would appreciate it.”
“He’ll tell them himself—sooner than he expects,” Fiona said with an innate knowledge of her brother. “He’s crazy about you, you know.”
Claire wasn’t sure how to reply to that. Her feelings, like Ryan’s, were complex and inexplicable—certainly not ready to be assigned a name other than the girlfriend-boyfriend one they’d just come to.
“You don’t have to say anything.” Fiona picked up on Claire’s reticence. “Things will just play out on their own.” She looked down at the huge tray of pastries that was on the seat beside her, both hers and the FI team’s contribution to the gathering. “I wish I could have made some of Rose’s favorite dishes. Glenna had to do all that since my kitchen is unusable. I would have begun with—”
“The pastries are great, and you’re procrastinating,” Casey interrupted. There was a big difference between calming Fiona down and letting her put off the inevitable. “Aside from admiring your exquisite earrings, we’ve now discussed the crowd, Claire’s love life, and your lack of ability to cook for the occasion. Time to go in.”
Fiona frowned. “You’re too good at what you do.”
“No major skills involved. You’re as easy to read as your brother.” Casey opened the car door. “I’ll introduce you to Al when we go in. He’ll be blending in with the crowd, saying he’s one of Rose’s clients. Once you see how capable he is, you’ll feel better.”
The three women walked up the street and were about to head up the path to the house when something caught Casey’s eye.
“Hang on,” she said. “I think Al is sitting in his car.”
“What?” Fiona looked puzzled and more than a little uneasy. She hurried along with Casey and Claire as they went straight to the Corolla.
Al saw them before they even approached, and he opened his window. He looked frustrated but alert and ready to act on a moment’s notice. “Hello, Casey, Claire—and you must be Fiona. I’m Al Sheppard.”
“Nice to meet you,” Fiona replied automatically. But she was clearly thrown by this unexpected turn of events.
Casey looked from Al to the bowl of stew in his lap to the untouched pint of Guinness placed on the floor of the passenger side of the car. “What’s going on? Why are you out here?”
He cleared his throat, visibly trying for diplomacy. “I was inside the house all day. As for this evening? I’m lucky I got this close. Mrs. McKay is a rather strong personality. She informed me that there’d be no guard dogs in her home during her party. She ordered me out. On the other hand,” he added quickly, seeing the stricken look on Fiona’s face, “she’s been back and forth to my car three times, bringing me a continuous supply of food. Oh, and this pint of beer, which she instructed me to place somewhere flat where it wouldn’t spill. I told her I don’t drink when I’m on duty, but she said I was relieved of duty until the guests had all gone. Sorry, Casey, but I’m not FBI anymore. I have no authority to force her to let me stay.”
“Oh, Mom.” Fiona rolled her eyes, then spoke directly to Al. “I apologize for my mother’s behavior, Mr. Sheppard, well-intentioned or not. If I had my way, I’d bring you in as my escort. But the fireworks that would cause would compromise what you’re really doing here. So I’ll just thank you and ask for your patience and vigilance.”
A corner of his mouth lifted. “Please call me Al. And no apologies necessary. I’ve eaten more good food in the past hour than I have all week.” With that, he sobered. “Casey has my cell number. Text me if there’s even the slightest hint of something being off. I’ll be inside in a heartbeat. Although I wouldn’t worry too much. Your detective friends have been in there for half an hour.”
“Alvarez and Shaw showed up?” Casey’s brows rose.
“Going by Patrick’s descriptions and their official demeanor, I’d say yes. And after last night’s break-in at Fiona’s, I’m not really surprised. They’re scoping out the guests to see if anyone on their potential list of suspects approaches her.”
“Great, just great.” Fiona glanced nervously around.
“It’ll be fine,” Al assured them. “No one is stupid enough to accost you in a crowd. Just pay attention to anyone who’s interested in asking you a suspicious number of personal questions pertaining to this case. You have two of the finest investigators to help you.” He indicated Casey and Claire.
“I know.” Fiona turned to look at the house. “I just wish my mother had let you stay. Alvarez and Shaw don’t exactly put me at ease.”
“We’ll handle them,” Casey said. “Thanks, Al.”
“Aren’t you cold?” Claire asked him, wrapping her fall jacket around her. “It’s kind of nippy out here.”
Al held up his bowl. “I have my stew to keep me warm.”
The McKays’ house was a whirlwind of activity, people chatting, eating, drinking, and flitting around to socialize. There was a bit of a hush when Fiona stepped into the hall, but she pretended not to notice it, instead scanning the area until she spotted her mother just inside the living room.
“In there,” she murmured to Casey and Claire, and they all eased their way in that direction.
Fiona greeted people as she walked, but she didn’t linger. As it was, far too many pairs of eyes were focused on her as she and her two-woman support system wove their way through the crowd and toward the living room. In those eyes were reflected many things—curiosity, sympathy, concern—you name it. That reaction only became more widespread, since the predominant number of guests were crammed in the living room and adjoining dining room. As those guests became aware of Fiona’s presence, they turned to scrutinize her, to see what kind of shape she was in after the trauma of the past few days.
Her mother pivoted around as she approached.
“Fiona.” Maureen embraced her daughter, holding on to her for an extra minute before easing away to assess Fiona’s physical and emotional state as only a mother could. Clearly, she didn’t give a damn what the guests were thinking. “Oh, lovey.” She held Fiona’s cheeks between her palms, her eyes growing damp. “Thank God you were here with me when this happened. Otherwise…” She broke off with a shudder.
“I’m really fine, Mom.” Fiona said it loudly enough for the nosy guests to hear. She knew their hearts were in the right place. Still, she felt like the star attraction at a circus, with a rapt audience following her every move.
Casey leaned around to place the tray of pastries on the long buffet table, after which she reached out to shake Maureen’s hand. “I’m Casey Woods, Mrs. McKay. Thank you for having us.”
“It’s such a pleasure to meet you,” Maureen replied. “Ryan speaks so highly of you.”
“I do the same of him. Your son’s a genius. Just don’t tell him I said so lest his ego become too big to fit in our brownstone.”
Maureen chuckled, and the heightened tension of the previous few minutes dissipated, just as Casey had hoped. Most of the guests went back to what they were doing, although Casey had no doubt that they’d all seek Fiona out when she became available. By now, they all knew that she’d been the one to find Rose’s body. But Casey had a strong suspicion that they also knew about the B and E at her place last night. The McKays’ circle of friends and fellow church congregants was very tight, and news of an event of that magnitude would pass quickly from cell phone to cell phone.
“Claire.” Maureen was now squeezing Claire’s hands. “I’m so glad you’re here. You have a kind and loving soul like Rose did. You two would have gotten along famously.”
“I’m sure.” Claire smiled. “Is there anything we can do to help?”
Maureen gave both Claire and Casey a pleading look, one that said: Just take care of my daughter.
Casey gave an indiscernible nod. “We’ll let you get back to your guests,” she said. “We’re fine on our own.” She turned to Fiona. “Introduce me to your dad. Then we can taste some of this delicious food your mom has prepared.”
“Not just me,” Maureen replied with a sweep of her arm. “Almost everyone who’s here. Rose had generous friends and we have a generous congregation. But please do taste everything and help us celebrate Rose’s life. That’s what this evening is all about.”
Maybe, Casey thought to herself with a quick scan of the area. Maybe not.