Crazed Reckoning, a Nick Spinelli Mystery

by Valerie J. Clarizio

  Bernie leaned forward and asked Walker to play the video again. “Did you recognize them?” Spinelli asked.

  “I’m not sure. I need to see it again.”

  Everyone slid over to give Bernie full access to the screen. He pulled up a chair, took a seat, and aligned his eyes on the center of the monitor. Walker hit the play button. Everyone’s attention shifted to Bernie rather than the computer screen. Quietly, they watched him as he studied the short video of the women.

  The clip ended. “Play it again,” Bernie demanded without moving or shifting his gaze from the screen.

  Walker hit play.

  Bernie pulled a frown and cocked his head to the side. The video ended and he stared at the blank screen for a moment before he lifted himself from the chair and stepped toward Riordan.

  “Bernie, what did you see?” Spinelli asked to deaf ears.

  Bernie and Riordan eyed each other for what felt like an eternity to Spinelli.

  Everyone edged toward them, waiting for some response.

  The corners of Bernie’s mouth lifted slowly until a full-fledged smile, stretched nearly from ear to ear. “Well, I’ll be dammed. I bet this just burns your ass, you crazy bastard.”

  Chapter Nine

  Maeve sat in her leather chair staring at the two women eating their late breakfast. They seemed like nice ladies. She hated the fact she’d taken them like that and refused to answer their questions, but it was best for everyone except Riordan.

  She’d considered consoling the ladies during the drive to Egg Harbor but successfully fought the urge. She had to keep her abductees fearful of her. If they felt more at ease and planned an escape, it could blow the whole operation.

  Maeve cleared her mind of the ladies and allowed it to shift back to Riordan. She recalled the look on his face when she took Shannon from his grasp—priceless, absolutely priceless. The corners of her mouth lifted and then froze at the thought of all the innocent players in the game.

  Maeve shifted her gaze to Brianna, her daughter, and co-conspirator. On one hand, she hated to put her daughter in this position but knew she couldn’t do the job alone. Brianna willingly offered and she needed a trusted individual to help. She was a good daughter.

  In the end, Maeve would lie for Brianna in hopes to get her off scot-free. She didn’t mind taking the blame; it would be worth it to see Riordan O’Brien get his due. And how she wanted to be there when he received the official word about his father.

  Brianna’s fingers danced across the keyboard of her laptop. Maeve wondered what she was looking at as they passed the time. It shouldn’t be long now.

  “Keep a close watch on them, would you? I need to rest my eyes a bit.” Brianna looked up from her laptop and nodded.

  “Let me know the second you get word.”

  Brianna nodded again.

  Maeve lifted herself from her chair and limped to the bedroom. She climbed onto the bed, closed her eyes, and said a little prayer. She was probably the only person on this earth who thanked God every day for her uncorrected clubfoot. The very foot that ultimately saved her from having to wed Riordan.

  When Shannon’s mother chose to wed someone else, it had been a landfall for Maeve’s father. Francis Quinn quickly stepped in to strike a deal with Emmet, Riordan’s dad, for a union of their families. Her father’s textile business was going under; an agreement between the Quinn’s and O’Brien’s could procure financial security for his daughters before word got out about his failing business.

  With a bit of coaxing, Francis struck a deal with Emmet that Riordan marry his daughter. Fortunately, for Maeve, Riordan wanted her beautiful, younger, unflawed sister Kathleen. Maeve knew the truth about Riordan. He was an extremist, bordering on crazy. Maeve tried to talk Kathleen out of the union, but Kathleen willingly accepted the task. The O’Brien wealth was too enticing for Kathleen to pass up.

  Kathleen and Riordan married and within months, Kathleen admitted her unhappiness with Riordan. His jealous nature wouldn’t allow for Kathleen to step out of his sight. If she dared talk to another man, he confined her to the house with no social interaction, not even her own family.

  Eight months into their first year of marriage, Kathleen became pregnant but soon miscarried. Maeve thought the stress of living with someone so controlling had contributed to the unfortunate situation.

  Within two years of the marriage, Kathleen hired a divorce attorney. Word quickly made its way back to Riordan, and Kathleen suddenly had a change of heart.

  During the third year of marriage, Kathleen became pregnant again and had the twins, Davin and Collin. They were not the sons Riordan had dreamed of and Kathleen paid the price. She loved her boys, and it broke her heart to see the way both Riordan and Emmet ignored them.

  Before the twins’ third birthday, Kathleen was gone. Her death was ruled a suicide, but Maeve knew better. Her sister would have never intentionally left her beloved sons to be raised under the confines of Riordan and Emmet.

  Riordan had pushed Kathleen from the old footbridge that crossed over the rocky gorge behind their house. Maeve was sure of it; Kathleen wouldn’t have jumped on her own. And with her fear of heights, Kathleen would never have attempted to cross the rickety old bridge by herself. Riordan had found the best alibi money could buy.

  After the funeral, Riordan allowed no contact between the boys and Kathleen’s family. They watched from afar as the boys grew up in an unloving and uncaring home.

  Maeve placed her hand over her aching heart. Many times throughout the years, especially those immediately following Kathleen’s death, Maeve fought to see the boys. Even the best attorneys were unsuccessful against Emmet and Riordan’s wealth and status.

  Maeve swiped at the tears that moistened her cheeks and drew in slow deep breaths. Her mind cleared as she entered that place between awake and sleep. Slowly, she drifted off to dreamland. An image of Kathleen’s lovely face materialized in her mind, like countless times before, both during Kathleen’s time on earth and in her spiritual world.

  During the months that followed Kathleen’s death, her troubled spirit visited Maeve nearly every night. Though Kathleen could not say it, she hinted to Maeve on more than one visit that her intuition was correct. Riordan had killed her sister that day. He pushed her off the bridge and walked away, leaving Kathleen to die alone on the frigid, unforgiving rocks below.

  It had been years since Maeve had dreamed of her sister. Now, Kathleen only made appearances during periods of duress. On one hand, Maeve found it odd but wasn’t too surprised.

  Maeve was just twelve years old when her great-grandmother sat her down and explained that her time on earth was nearing the end. Maeve would become responsible for protecting Kathleen who’d been born frail, pure at heart, and too trusting. Her great-grandmother insisted that drinking the tea from the dainty ceramic cup would give Maeve the mental fortitude and psychic powers needed to keep a close eye on her naive younger sister. At the time, Maeve simply appeased the eccentric old woman and drank the strangely concocted herbal tea. It tasted strongly of cinnamon, dill, nuts, and basil, yet fruity with grapes and blueberry, while oddly smelling of rose and damp moss.

  It didn’t take long for Maeve to realize her great-grandmother’s concoction actually worked. Maeve’s heavy heart not only carried the burden of her own mourning but Kathleen’s as well. As they stood side-by-side staring down at their great-grandmother’s body during her wake, each tear that swelled in Kathleen’s eyes stabbed at Maeve’s heart.

  Often times throughout their childhood, especially their troubled teen years, Maeve had considered options to undo the spell cast upon her. It was hard enough to manage her own spiraling emotions as a teenager, let alone someone else’s as well. But family duty always prevailed, and she’d cast her selfish thoughts aside.

  Still, Maeve wondered why her great-grandmother hadn’t given Kathleen some sort of crystal ball potion to see her life with Riordan. Surely, had she known she wouldn’t have been blin
ded by the O’Brien wealth and married such a monster. Now Maeve could do nothing except seek sweet revenge. She knew in her heart, from the very first time her sister’s spirit visited her, the only way to free Kathleen’s unsettled soul was to take from Riordan the thing that meant the most to him—his wealth.

  Maeve’s racing heartbeat woke her. She glanced at her watch. She’d only rested for a few minutes. Drawing in slow deep breaths, she calmed the thudding in her chest and her weary eyelids drifted closed again.

  Kathleen’s flawless milky-white face, framed by her long, flaming-red hair, floated through Maeve’s mind with the grace of an angel. A vision of beauty, she appeared just as she was nearly three decades ago. She hadn’t aged. How could she? Riordan had taken that option away from her.

  Kathleen’s bright ruby red lips parted.

  Maeve, my dear sister, you’ve carried this burden of revenge for too long. I see how tired you are. I ask, no matter what happens today, that you let it go, for your own sake. You’ve done all you can. My sons are grown men and can fend for themselves. As you are well aware, from your distant, yet close watch on my sons all these years, Davin is much like our father: smart, kind, and loving. No matter what happens today, he’ll be fine.

  And Collin, if you could have seen and heard him just a few minutes ago, he’s found the goodness that had been stowed away in his heart all along. He’s a strong man who will accept the consequences of his actions, and for that, I am very proud. My spirit will now rest knowing the goodness in both my son’s hearts. The evil living within Riordan will die along with him someday.

  I am so sorry for the curse that had been cast upon you. Again, I ask when you wake to forgive Riordan and free your soul of this burden. Live the rest of your years in happiness, as you deserved all along.

  * * * *

  Bernie kept his gaze on Riordan. “Well, it appears your little world is about to come crumbling down. I guess old Maeve thinks that revenge is a dish best served cold. And here you thought you’d rid yourself of her years ago,” Bernie commented as another satisfying chuckle escaped his lips.

  Spinelli watched as the white of Riordan’s left eyeball turned red as a fire truck. The bulging must have caused a vessel to break. Spinelli had never seen anyone’s eyes protrude as far out of their sockets. Spit saturated Riordan’s gag and ran down his chin as he fiercely growled. Bernie had obviously struck a nerve.

  Spinelli’s mind did a double-take. Did Bernie really just use a specific woman’s name? Though he still didn’t have a clue where Shannon and Anna were, Bernie’s sudden change in emotions sent a ripple of relief through Spinelli’s veins. They had another lead.

  “Maeve?” Spinelli asked.

  All eyes were on Bernie as he stepped back from Riordan and faced the group.

  “Maeve is Kathleen’s sister.”

  “Kathleen?”

  “Our mother. She died when we were young. I don’t even remember her,” Collin replied in not much more than a whisper. Spinelli noted the lost, sad look in his eyes.

  “So why would Maeve be here today, and why would she take Shannon and Anna?” Spinelli asked as he shifted his gaze between Collin, Davin, and Bernie, hoping at least one of them had a clue.

  Bernie sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and chewed on it for a moment as he flashed a sympathetic look at Davin and then to Collin. Spinelli assumed the information Bernie was about to share would be hurtful to the men.

  “Well?”

  Bernie sighed and fixed his gaze on Spinelli, ignoring Riordan’s rants. “Maeve is Kathleen’s older sister. She was a couple of years behind me in school and Mary’s friend. It’s my understanding that when Mary wed Shannon’s dad, Maeve’s father took the opportunity to negotiate a union between Maeve and Riordan.” Bernie threw a glance in Riordan’s direction then returned his gaze. “Riordan wouldn’t have anything to do with Maeve because of her disability but he quickly agreed to take Kathleen as his wife.”

  “The limp?” Marsh questioned.

  “Yeah, that’s how I knew who she was from the video. That and what little I could see of her face. She was born with a clubfoot.”

  “So why is she here now?”

  Bernie stole another glance at Davin and Collin. Swallowing hard he continued, “Supposedly, Kathleen committed suicide by jumping off an old footbridge that crossed over a gorge on the O’Brien property. Maeve never believed that to be true. She had reason to believe Riordan pushed Kathleen off the bridge and was angry that he got off scot-free.”

  Davin gasped and fell back onto the chair behind him. His pale skin turned pasty.

  “Davin, are you okay?” Collin’s frantic voice sounded across the room.

  No response.

  Walker hurried toward Davin and crouched down. “Are you okay?”

  Davin took a second before he leaned forward and scooted out of the chair. He stepped toward Riordan and aligned his eyes with his father’s. “It’s true, isn’t it?”

  Riordan’s intense, psychotic glare looked as if it could bore a hole through his son. Davin shook his head, stepped back, and looked up at Bernie. “So, you think she’s here to serve up some justice to my dad by preventing the wedding, in order to hit him where it will hurt him the most?”

  “Yep, right in the old pocketbook. If she’s able to keep Shannon from Riordan until after Emmet dies, she will have prevailed. Riordan will be broke.” Bernie paused, tilted his head to the side, and gave a slight shrug. “Of course, so will you guys.”

  Davin walked over to his brother, “What do you think?”

  “It’s about time someone socked it to him. I’m sick of living this way.”

  Davin shot Spinelli a glance. “I’d like to untie my brother.”

  Spinelli nodded, sure Collin wouldn’t be a problem any longer. But he would see to it that Collin got what was coming to him for his role in this whole ordeal, forced or not by his crazy father. The word ‘crazy’ latched onto Spinelli like a leech. A surge of panic shot through his veins. What if Maeve was as crazy as Riordan? Nobody in this hotel suite, at present, really knew her. If Emmet actually didn’t pass in the near future, how far would Maeve be willing to go to serve her revenge on Riordan? After hearing of Maeve’s years of bottled-up frustration, Spinelli feared Shannon’s life might still be in serious jeopardy.

  Spinelli fixed his gaze on Bernie. “So, do you really think Maeve will simply let Shannon and Anna walk the second Emmet dies?”

  Bernie inhaled a deep breath and let it out slowly as he pondered Spinelli’s question. He shook his head. “I can’t say for sure. I can only assume and hope. She’s a nice, good-hearted person. At least she was years ago.” Bernie shot a glance at Riordan, “But Riordan does have a way of bringing out the worst in a person.”

  The air drained from Spinelli’s lungs and a sharp pain shot through his heart as if someone had stuck a knife through it and twisted.

  “And what happens if Emmet doesn’t die soon?” Bernie asked, his voice trailing off to nearly a whisper.

  Marsh pulled up a chair in front of the laptop and rapidly pounded the keys. Within moments, his fingers stilled. “She’s a rookie.”

  “What did you find?” Spinelli asked as he leaned over Marsh’s shoulder to catch a glimpse of the screen.

  “Credit card use at a resort in Egg Harbor.”

  “From when?”

  “Last night, and less than an hour ago.”

  “Punch the address in and Walker and I will run up there. You can hang back here and hold tight,” Spinelli instructed as he handed Marsh his phone, hoping Marsh wouldn’t notice his shaky fingers. He worked to regulate his thudding heart, which beat as if it were pumping peanut butter through his veins. Though he was one step closer to Shannon, a hint of fear swirled in his stomach at the thought of the rug being pulled from under his feet again. It was a legitimate possibility, just like when he thought he’d find her in the room in which they were now standing.

  Walker hopped into the d
river’s seat. Spinelli was glad to climb into the passenger seat, knowing he’d probably press the accelerator to the floor if he were behind the wheel. Walker pulled into traffic. Orange barricades, closing off streets for the parade route, blocked nearly every turn. The phone’s GPS did not register the alternate route. He fought the urge to chuck it out the window. Finally, Walker found a route to the highway and they headed north to Egg Harbor. According to the GPS, the trip would take twenty-two minutes. It would be the longest twenty-two minutes of his life.

  Once on the highway, Spinelli’s hands stopped shaking but he couldn’t fight the perspiration beading on his upper lip and temples. He swiped his hand across his face, and then over his thighs.

  “She’s okay. I don’t believe for a moment this Maeve person has any intention of hurting her,” Walker stated as he kept his eyes focused on the road. Walker always appeared calm, his expression neutral, even in the worst of situations. Of course, it was never Walker’s wife who was friends with murdered Santa’s, elves, or lovers. It was never Walker’s wife who’d been taken hostage by drug-dealing thugs, and psychotic men or women. Walker lived the good life, a regular life, with a wife and two young kids at home who never found themselves in this kind of a mess.

  What was it about him and Shannon that caused all this craziness? Perhaps they just weren’t good for one another. Did I really just think that? He nearly proposed to her on Valentine’s Day and had pulled the ring out of his dresser drawer at least a thousand times since then just to imagine what it might look like on her finger. Earlier in the day, he kicked himself for not marrying her. If he had, she wouldn’t be in this mess. He swiped his sweaty palms over his thigh again. “Dammit.”