At the click, click, click coming quickly down the hall toward the back office at the Salty Dog, Shay groaned in frustration. She’d recognize the sound of Cherry’s thigh-high boots anywhere. Not surprising since she’d heard the exact same sound twenty times in the past four hours.
By the time Shay had searched the house from top to bottom for clues as to her uncle’s whereabouts, it was noon when they arrived at the pub. Cherry had been barging into the office five times per hour, which broke down to one interruption every fifteen minutes. If the ensuing conversations—demands—lasted two minutes, Shay probably would’ve managed to get some work done. But Cherry took five minutes just getting herself organized to speak, a hair fluff here, a winning or ingratiating smile there, and dependent on the audience, shoulders back and boobs thrust out.
The woman in question burst into the office wearing a body-hugging fuchsia sweater that today served as a dress. Cherry did a breathy little huff and puff while patting her exposed chest, and there was a lot of chest to pat courtesy of the lacy pink push-up bra that was also visible, and then moistened her lips before moving her hand to her hip, which she jutted out. “I need you out front like yesterday.”
“I’ll be right there,” Shay said, even though she had no intention of leaving the office again. She couldn’t afford to waste any more time checking out potential tea-leaf suitors.
Something didn’t feel right about the whole Charlie going-off-to-track-down-her-sisters scenario. Rightly or wrongly, he blamed himself for Shay losing her sisters and for being put away. So would he want to find them to make amends? Definitely. Would he want to keep it from her in case his search didn’t pan out? Absolutely.
He wouldn’t want to get her hopes up just to have her disappointed again. He’d disappointed her plenty in the past. Still, despite being a recovering alcoholic, con, and gambler, the one thing she’d never doubted was his love for her. He’d tried his best, and maybe that’s what he was doing again, but she couldn’t shake the feeling there was something more going on. Tony’s murder fed her suspicions.
At the snap of Cherry’s fingers, Shay refocused on the woman. “Book it, Shaybae. Now.”
“I’m not booking it, double-timing it, or jetting,” she repeated Cherry’s expression, including the two she’d used during her prior attempts.
“You don’t understand. It’s not like the other times. This is a desperate situation for reals. The guy that—”
“You know what, I just remembered, I did have a cup of tea this morning. So those were my tea leaves you read. The tea leaf gods are sending me the man of my dreams, not you. And since the men in my dreams typically turn into nightmares, I’ve decided I don’t want anything to do with—”
Cherry’s face fell, her glossy pink lips turning down. “I thought things were finally turning around for me. It’s been so long since anything really good happened in my life, you know? And then you came along and rescued me and got me the job at Sterling and then you brought me home to Harmony Harbor with you. So this morning’s news that I was finally going to find someone to love who would love me, too, well, that was just the pink icing on the red velvet cake. And to find out it was all a lie, I feel—”
Shay lightly banged her head on the desk. “Okay, okay, I was lying,” she said, her voice muffled. “I had coffee. They were your tea leaves. He’s the love of your life, not mine. I’m sure the tea leaf gods would send you only good guys, so go out there and procreate.” She lifted her head and looked at Cherry. “Ignore the last part, but go dance or something with the guy. Have fun.”
“No, I’m not doing anything with him. You said he’s a dealer.”
“Wait, what? Who are you talking about? I thought—”
“I’m talking about the for-reals desperate situation. The guy you beat up, he’s sitting at the bar and asking questions about you,” Cherry said.
She pushed back from the desk and stood up. “Why didn’t you just say that in the first place?”
“I’m sure I did.”
“Ah, no, you didn’t.” As Shay rounded the desk, Roxy gingerly placed a paw outside of her princess bed beside the threadbare olive-green couch. Shay pointed a finger at the poodle. “You stay right where you are.”
Charlie would croak if he walked in to see his dark and dingy office cluttered with pink chew toys, stuffed animals, a neon-pink satin bed, and puppy pads.
Cherry flounced past her. “Don’t you listen to Auntie Shay, Roxie Roo. She’s not as crusty as she pretends to be.”
“Oh yeah, I am.” And she was even crustier when she walked down the hall and past the Wenches and Mates bathrooms, named in keeping with the pub’s pirate ship theme. The floors and walls were cedar and gave off a warm, fragrant scent. When it was busy, the woodsy smell was overpowered by that of the soft pretzels and craft beer they were famous for.
Shay rounded the corner and spotted Gerry sitting at the bar. It was four o’clock on a Monday, so he wasn’t hard to spot. They’d be busier around five when people dropped in for a beer before heading home.
Gerry hadn’t spotted her yet. He was busy talking to Denise, who wore a peasant serving wench costume in green and burgundy the same as the rest of the female servers. Shay had been trying to get rid of the uniform for years, but her uncle was living out his pirate fantasies and there wasn’t a chance she’d change his mind.
She nodded at two older men who sat at one of the tables on barrels instead of chairs. Between each of the twenty tables were wooden wheels her uncle swore came from real pirate ships. Just like the cutlasses and swords that hung from the walls. One of the swords was reputed to have been William Gallagher’s. Michael’s grandfather many times over was rumored to have been a pirate. It’s supposedly where the family’s wealth had come from.
And where there wasn’t a cutlass, sword, or rope, there were framed photos of Charlie and his staff dressed as famous pirates. To Shay’s never-ending embarrassment, the photo of her as Grace O’Malley had a place of pride in the pub.
Denise looked over and lifted her chin at Shay. Gerry swiveled on the black leather barstool. His face paled, and he held up a hand. “I’m not here to cause trouble.”
“You wouldn’t be causing it for long if you were,” she said as she rounded the bar. “Take a break if you want, Denise. I’ve got this.”
Tall and buxom with her burgundy hair woven into a crown of braids on top of her head, the fiftysomething woman gave Shay a curt nod. Denise was her uncle’s on-and-off again girlfriend. She’d never been Shay’s biggest fan. It was Charlie’s fault. Her uncle didn’t want a full-time girlfriend, so whenever Denise started pressuring him, he used Shay’s supposed animosity toward Denise as an excuse. Shay actually liked the woman and had no opinion on their relationship whatsoever, which she’d told Denise on many occasions.
Shay picked up a towel and tossed it over the picture of herself as Grace O’Malley above the old-fashioned cash register. She turned to the man at the bar. “All right, Gerry, what are you doing here?”
He glanced around and then leaned toward her. “Me? What are you doing here? The cops, the DEA, they’re all looking for you, lady. I had no idea who you were until I was telling my main man about this chick who broke my nose, and he started asking me questions about you. He got this shocked look on his face, and he says, “Shit man, that was the Angel. You’re lucky she didn’t kill your sorry ass.”
He held out his hands. “Swear to God, I wouldn’t have come around if I’d known it was your territory. My man Eric, he says you’re the best. You protected his ass from Keller, so whatever you need, I’m good for. But Costello ain’t going to be happy if you start horning in on his business.”
“Costello took over from Keller?” This was not good news. “I’ve been out of the country,” she said, in case Gerry wondered why she wasn’t in the know.
“Yeah, the guy’s into everything now, drugs, exhortation, strip clubs. Word is he’s making a run on Libby’s club.” At Shay’s blank look, he pointed to his nose. “Your neighbor.”
“Right. The woman whose arm you were twisting hard enough to make her cry out.”
“I know. I’m a jerk. But I can’t be giving the stuff away for free. That’s the second time Libby tried to stiff me. If Costello’s guys found out, they’d be doing a lot worse. I never told though. I made up for it out of my own pocket. You don’t screw Costello,” Gerry said, swiveling in the bar stool to lift his chin at the back room. “Something you should share with your uncle. Costello’s been trying to get his poker machines in the Salty Dog. But Charlie won’t have any of it.”
“You sure about that?”
“Ah, yeah, Costello's trying to make inroads in Harmony Harbor. Charlie’s getting the business owners riled up about it, getting them to take a stand against Costello. Not in his best interest to be doing that, if you know what I mean. Costello’s a little off the wall. Doesn’t help that his uncles will be out in a few weeks. Word on the street is they aren’t happy with how he’s been running the family business.” He looked around again before lowering his voice when Denise began wiping down a table a few feet away. “You sure you should be here? I mean, far as I know, no one ratted you out, and it doesn’t sound like the cops know who the woman was that night, still…”
It took everything she had not to let her fear show after what he’d said. Her gut was telling her this was most likely the reason Charlie had gone missing. “The cops don’t have a clue who I am. But I didn’t have a choice about coming back. My uncle’s missing. There isn’t any talk about him on the street, is there?”
“Not that I’ve heard. Then again, I didn’t even know he was missing. I’ll keep my ears open. Let you know if I hear anything.”
“I’d appreciate it. And if I were you, I’d start looking for another profession, Gerry. From what I hear, people don’t live long doing what you do.”
He swallowed audibly and slid off the barstool. “Are you telling me I’m dead unless I stop selling?”
“Pretty much.”
“I…I don’t understand. I’m just trying to help. Why would you threaten to kill me?”
“I…” She trailed off when a tall, silver-haired man entered the bar. He wore a black wool coat over a black suit, his bearing regal. She hadn’t seen him in years. He worked for the Gallaghers, though Michael had always spoken about him as if he were more family than employee. And like the rest of the Gallagher clan, Jasper hadn’t approved of her relationship with the heir apparent to his father’s political career.
“Look, I’ll do whatever you want me to, just…please don’t kill me,” Gerry pleaded, his voice rising above a frantic whisper.
At the quirk of Jasper’s silver eyebrow, Shay briefly closed her eyes and counted to ten. It didn’t help as much as the reminder that she no longer cared what the Gallaghers thought about her. She refocused on Gerry, who looked like he planned to go down on his knees to beg for her mercy. She leaned over the bar and fisted her hands in the front of his jacket, holding him in an upright position. “Don’t be so dramatic. We’re square. All I want you to do is keep your eyes and ears open.”
“Okay, okay, I can do that. And I’ll stay out of your territory. I’ll cover for you with Costello. You can sell your dope wherever you want.”
Great. No doubt Jasper was giving himself a mental high five at the proof they’d been right about her. And she couldn’t defend herself without blowing her previous cover. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t like she and Michael were getting back together.
“I’m lying low, remember?” she said to Gerry as she let him go. “I’d advise you to do the same. Now get out of here.” He gave a jerky nod and reached in his back pocket. “Don’t worry about it. Your beer is on the house.”
“Eric’s right. You’re like the bad guys’ superhero. Glad you’re on our side. Sorry,” he said, bumping into Jasper as he turned to leave.
“What can I get for you?” Shay asked the older man as he approached, working to swallow a groan when she heard a familiar click, click, click coming their way.
As Cherry closed in on the bar, he said, “I was hoping to have a word with you, Ms. Angel.”
Shay had to give him credit. There was no visible reaction on his face when he got an up-close-and-personal look at Cherry. “Sure, shoot.” While holding his gaze, she covertly waved off Cherry. Tried to, she amended when the woman sidled up beside Jasper.
Cherry fluffed her hair, doing so in such a way that she thrust out her triple Ds. Then she fluttered her eyelashes while running the tip of her tongue over her lips—very, very slowly. “Well, hello, handsome,” she said in a Marilyn Monroe voice.
Oh good God, Cherry thought Jasper was her tea-leaf suitor. Shay had to figure out a way to get rid of her.
Despite having a great poker face, she picked up on a definite hint of nerves in the quick uptick of Jasper’s lips. “Miss.” He nodded.
Cherry wrinkled her nose. “Oh, you’re just so cute with that accent. Are you really as prim and proper as you sound?”
“Quite.”
He had no idea what he’d just done. Converting him from prim and proper to wild and fun would be a challenge her friend couldn’t resist. “Cherry, this is Jasper. He works for the Gallaghers at Greystone Manor,” she stressed the two things that should give her friend pause since Shay had shared at least some of what had gone on in the past.
“Oh, nice,” Cherry said, obviously not hearing a word Shay had said, her entire focus on Jasper. Smiling, Cherry pressed her body against his side and played with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Has anyone ever told you that you have the most amazing hair and eyes?”
Shay made a mental note to throw out every tea bag in the house, and in the pub.
“No.” Jasper’s voice came out an octave higher, and he cleared his throat. “No, I can’t say that they have.”
“Well you absolutely do, and I—”
Shay could see it happening right before her eyes. Jasper was going to have a coronary, and the Gallaghers would blame her. “Cherry,” she snapped.
“What?” she snapped back, clearly perturbed at being interrupted.
“I need to speak with Jasper alone for a minute. It’s probably time for you to take Roxy out for a walk anyway." She nudged her head in the direction of the office.
“No, I just took her out. But you go ahead and chat with Jaspy,” she purred his name and hefted herself onto the barstool beside him. “I could listen to him talk all day.”
Jasper quickly averted his gaze from Cherry.
Shay glanced at her friend to see why the older man’s face had flushed. “Cherry.” She gestured at her friend’s sweater and mouthed, Put on some pants.
“You’re such a prude. I’ll be right back, and we’ll get better acquainted, Jasper.” She gave the older man a lascivious wink before strutting away, hips swinging.
“Sorry about that,” Shay said as she turned to take a bottle of Johnnie Walker off the glass shelf.
“You have nothing to apologize for, miss. But I’m afraid I do.”
She poured two fingers of whiskey in a shot glass and placed it in front of the older man. “What do you have to apologize for?”
“Thank you,” he said as he lifted the drink to his lips, surprising Shay by tossing it back. “Your uncle. I don’t know if Master Michael told you or not, but I believe you have the right to know. I’m the one who gave Charlie the news about your sisters. I should have handled it better.”
Gerry had basically confirmed her fears that Charlie hadn’t gone in search of her sisters but was hiding (hopefully) from Danny Costello, so she wasn’t quite sure how to respond to Jasper. But she appreciated he had the courage to face her and apologize. Still…“It’s too bad no one thought to tell him years before. Or that Mrs. Gallagher didn’t go to him with her concerns before turning us in to social services.”
“Madame didn’t intend for events to unfold as they did. She was concerned for your well-being. She didn’t mean you harm. Am I correct in assuming you haven’t read the papers I gave to your uncle?”
She nodded. “Charlie must have taken them with him. I’ve searched the house and his office and haven’t found any evidence as to where or why he disappeared.”
He angled his head, a silver eyebrow quirked as he studied her. “You don’t believe he’s gone in search of your sisters, do you?”
“I don’t know why you’d think that. Right now it’s the only lead I have.
He turned the shot glass between his long fingers. “No, I don’t believe that’s true. I think you have a very good idea what’s happened to your uncle, Ms. Angel. And if that’s the case, you should talk to Master Michael.” He held her gaze with his piercing blue eyes. “You remind me of myself when I was younger, so trust me when I tell you that this is one battle you don’t want to fight on your own.”
Shay wondered if Jasper was suffering from some form of dementia. There was no way the dignified man sitting before her with his proper manners and sedate job had ever done or witnessed half of what she had.
His mouth twitched as though he knew what she was thinking. “Your judgments are colored by your own misconceptions and experiences, Ms. Angel. Rarely will someone allow you to see who they truly are. Whether you believe me or not, we are much more alike than you will ever know.” He stood and reached in his back pocket, frowning as he began searching his other pockets for what she assumed was his wallet.
She was just about to tell him his drink was on the house when he gave her an amused smile. “It seems I should take my own advice.”
Unsure what he was talking about, and worried he might actually be having cognitive problems, she was somewhat relieved when she looked up at a blast of cool, damp air from the open door to see Michael. He met her gaze over the heads of the older men he held the door open for.
“Exactly the point I’ve been trying to make,” Jasper said when he caught Shay looking at Michael. “Give him a second chance. He deserves it, and so do you.”
“Sorry, Jasper, but I’m beginning to question your judgment,” she said, glancing over at the familiar click, click, click as Cherry walked over wearing a serving wench costume that had been altered to reveal a wide expanse of cleavage and leg. “That’s not what I had in mind,” Shay said.
Michael approached, hiding a smile behind his hand before nodding. “Shay. Nice costume, Cherry. What are you up to, Jeeves?”
“I stopped by for a libation. But I must be on my way now. Master Michael, Ms. Angel.” He nodded and then turned to Cherry. “My wallet, miss.”