One Night in Paris

by Kate Sweeney

  *******

  Maureen parked behind the casino, having called Conall on the way. He figured that was the best place; he’d let her in the back way. The door opened before she even knocked. Conall pulled her in and closed the door.

  “You’re all right then?” he asked.

  Maureen was tall, about five-eight, but Conall stood at least six-one and was a solid wall of muscle. She saw the concern in his deep-set blue eyes. “I’m fine, ya idiot. Let’s get out of this drafty doorway.”

  Con laughed as she followed him up the back stairs to his office.

  “How’s business?” she asked.

  “Couldn’t be better,” he said over his shoulder.

  Maureen immediately sank into the deep cushions of the leather couch. Con poured two drinks, handing one to Maureen. “Remember Ed Peters from London?”

  “The little fella with the glasses?” Maureen took a sip of whiskey, feeling the warmth spread to her toes. She sat back, feeling relaxed.

  “I had to chase him home the other night. The little guy has a wife and four kids, and he comes in here with his paycheck.” Con shook his head and drank.

  Maureen raised an eyebrow. “Don’t try and fool me, Con. You let him win a few hands before you got all tough and tossed him out.”

  Con threw his head back and laughed. “And if ya tell anyone, I’ll deny it.” He ran his fingers through his coal-black hair. “Now tell me what’s been happening. Michael has dropped off the face of the earth. And I heard you were in Paris. I don’t like what I heard.”

  His big brother tone had Maureen smiling inwardly. “Michael was in a safe place. But now Tommy knows where he is, so I’m getting him out tomorrow. The nurse has orders not to let anyone in or to let any calls go through but mine.”

  “Hospital? So that’s true. Is he all right?”

  “He is now. I think Tommy tried to have him killed.”

  “I wouldn’t doubt that. Michael truly pissed him off. It was a lot of money.” He leaned forward then. “Why did you not come to me? I’d have given the money…”

  Maureen vehemently shook her head. “Then he’d be after you for helping. No. I don’t want anyone else. I’ve involved too many already.”

  Conall cocked his head. “Who else?”

  Maureen felt the color rise in her cheeks. Con laughed. “So that rumor is true, as well?”

  “What rumor?”

  He leaned over. “When I heard ya went to Paris, I was pissed. And so was Leiza.” He laughed heartily. “Oh, the names she called you.”

  “She’s here?”

  “No, no. One of my guys was in Paris to look after ya.”

  “Damn it all, Conall. I can take care of myself.”

  “Yes, I know. Big strong Costello. Anyway, Leiza went off about you to him, and he came back laughing and told me. So who’s the American? Are they as good as I’m told?”

  “Don’t talk like that.”

  Conall’s mouth dropped. “Don’t tell me you’re…”

  “Can we get on with this?” Maureen tossed back the rest of the whiskey.

  He continued laughing. “All right, all right. Go ahead.”

  She took the glass once again. “I’m after gettin’ him,” she said softly.

  “And by him, I’m assumin’ you mean Tommy,” he said, mirroring her tone.

  She nodded and sat back, the relaxed feeling dissipating with every thought of what she had to do.

  “And just how are ya going to do that?”

  “Do ya remember Michael’s friends, the two…”

  “Gay fellas? Yeah, I remember. One was in deep with Tommy.”

  “Right. Well, Matt Nolan is dead, and we can’t find his friend.”

  “So?”

  “So Michael thinks Matt’s friend had some sort of book he was keeping. Ya know how Tommy always seems one step ahead of the garda? Well, Michael thinks the answers to that are in this book. And I’m desperate to find it.”

  “How can I help?”

  “You can’t. I’m just telling you I don’t know what’s in it, but I’m taking it to the police when I find it. I want that crazy bastard finished.”

  Con nodded and smiled sadly. “And you’re afraid I’m in that book and I’ll be finished, as well.”

  “I don’t know. But I know he has something on you, and I wouldn’t put it past him to use it. I’m giving ya a heads-up, I suppose.”

  Con smiled again. “I understand.”

  “You run a clean business here. The cops are never bothering you. I don’t want to know anything about you and Tommy or what happened in the past. I don’t care. You’ve been like a big brother to me, and I trust you. I need to trust you.”

  “And ya can. You know that. I can at least try to get a name for you. This friend—what was his name again?”

  “Matt Nolan.” She gave him a suspicious look. “And you know gay men?”

  Conall looked shocked. “I’m very evolved, Maureen Costello. Shame on you.”

  “I apologize. I had no idea you were so worldly.”

  He laughed outright at that. “That I am. Now tell me about Paris and this American. It’s much more pleasant conversation than Tommy Doyle.”

  Maureen sat back and stared at the ceiling. “She’s amazing. She’s helping me, without question, not knowing me at all.”

  “How did you meet?”

  She told him about the whole evening, from start to finish. He was chuckling when she finished. “Francesca? Well, looks like she found her adventure.”

  “Yeah, but I should’ve never gotten into her car.”

  “Why did ya then?”

  “I was selfish…”

  “You were alone and scared,” he said softly. “You’ve spent too much time in your life alone. Keep her safe and hold on to her. You deserve a little happiness.”

  Maureen raised an eyebrow. “Understand the gay community? Now you’re spouting romance? Just what have you been reading, Conall Murphy?”

  “I’m getting old. Now tell me what happened in Paris. I heard you were there doing something for Tommy.”

  “I can’t explain it right now.” She laughed then and handed him the empty glass and declined another. “I’m saying that a lot lately. To far too many people. I need to finish this.”

  Con watched her as he poured himself a whiskey. “I don’t like the sound of that, either. Have you talked to Kevin?”

  “Yes. I told him as much as I could.”

  Con watched her cautiously; so much so, it began to make Maureen nervous. “There’s something else you’re not telling me.”

  “I’m telling you all this because the shit may hit the fan as the Americans say. And I want you to know.”

  “I have nothin’ to hide,” he said, still watching her.

  “I know that, but Tommy has.”

  Con nodded. “I get you. Will ya keep me informed?”

  “I will. When I find that bloody book, I’ll let you know.”

  “And Kevin, as well? He’s a cop after all.”

  Maureen swallowed and nodded. “I will. I have to get back. I’m not stayin’ at my flat.” She held up her hand. “And no I can’t tell ya where I’m staying.”

  “Good enough. You will let me know if you get in over your head. I mean it.”

  “I’m afraid it’s too late for that. But I will if it comes to it.”

  Conall pulled her into a monstrous hug. “Love ya, Maureen.”

  “Love ya, too. This will work out.” She walked out of his office without another look back.

  *******

  She drove the outskirts of Dublin in circles, making sure she wasn’t followed; when she felt it safe, she headed back to Trevor’s home. The idea of lying in a warm bed next to Annabel had her foot pressed down on the accelerator.

  The house was dark and quiet, with only a light above the stove to illuminate her way. She locked up and climbed the stairs, heading for her room. She didn’t want to wake Annabel, but she had promised to c
ome to her. Who are ya kiddin’, Costello, she thought, you want to be with her more than you’re willing to admit.

  She quietly opened the bedroom door and smiled when she heard the soft snoring coming from Annabel. She peeled off her clothes and slipped into the pajamas Annabel had left. They were clean, Maureen thought. Annabel must have done laundry. She climbed into bed, and Annabel immediately woke.

  “Are you all right?” she asked, her voice full of sleep.

  Maureen pulled her close, reveling in the warmth that spread through her body. “I’m fine, luv. Go back to sleep,” she whispered, kissing her temple.

  Annabel cuddled closer and sighed. “Good. I worried about you. Did your meeting go well?”

  “Yes, it did. Thank you.”

  Annabel looked up in a sleepy haze. “For what?”

  “For caring. For worrying. For the pajamas.” She smiled when Annabel laughed sleepily. “For getting yourself mixed up with the likes of me.” Maureen fought the wave of emotions and held her close.

  “I like the likes of you,” Annabel said with a yawn. “Do you like the likes of me?”

  “I do.” Maureen chuckled. “Crazy American.”

  Chapter 13

  After breakfast, Maureen paced in the foyer, waiting for Trevor. She glanced at her watch. “What’s he doing?” she asked helplessly.

  Annabel reached up and kissed her cheek. “He needs to make an entrance.”

  “Why are all gay men the same? It’s the same in America then?”

  “Yes.” She stopped and looked at Maureen. “Did you sleep well?”

  “No,” Maureen whispered and kissed her. “The mattress was too soft, and I fought the urge to wake you and join me in my misery.”

  Annabel hugged her. “You should have,” she whispered in her ear, then gently nibbled at it.

  “I’m afraid we wouldn’t have slept at all then.” Maureen laughed nervously and pulled back. “God, please don’t start…”

  “How do I look?”

  Maureen and Annabel looked up when Trevor dramatically walked down the stairs. Annabel grinned at her flamboyant friend, who looked like Joan Crawford as he took one stair at a time. Looking professorial, he wore a pair of tweed trousers and a brown sport jacket with leather patches on the elbows. The red handkerchief in the pocket of the jacket matched the socks, showing Trevor’s claim that one must always have a splash of color. As he descended the staircase, he slipped on a pair of driving gloves.

  “Perfect for a country doctor who’s going on a clandestine adventure?” He grinned as he stood on the last stair, dramatically brushing the hair off his forehead. “All right, Mr. DeMille. I’m ready for my close-up.”

  Maureen looked confused as she watched him. “I don’t get it.”

  “What’s not to get?” Trevor seemed truly hurt. “It’s from a very famous movie. Sunset Boulevard. And the grand Norma Desmond. Bigger than life.” He finished with a flourished wave of his hand.

  Annabel had to play along, lest Trevor have a stroke. “But you’re no longer big, Miss Desmond.”

  Trevor sported an indignant glare. “I am big. It’s the pictures that got small.”

  “You two have done this before?” Maureen asked cautiously as she watched them.

  “You should see his Margo Channing…” Annabel said, slipping her arm in the crook of Maureen’s.

  Trevor did the same on her other arm and said in his best Bette Davis, “Fasten your seat belts. It’s going to be a bumpy night. Let’s go, darlings.”

  Sandwiched between them, Maureen looked to the heavens as they walked toward the car. “What have I gotten meself into?”

  *******

  They were quiet and subdued as they drove toward Dublin. The fog had disappeared, but it was still damp and dreary. As they got closer to Dublin, Annabel could see the Irish Sea looked menacing with the gray rain clouds hanging low in the sky.

  “It’s always so dreadfully damp here,” Trevor said, shifting gears. “But your poets seem to love it. What’s the poem by Yeats about the rose or something?”

  “Red rose, proud rose, sad rose of all my days,” Maureen said pensively, looking out the window. She decided to sit in front, just in case she needed to move the car. Her stomach roiled at the thought of what they were about to do. They just had to get Michael out of that hospital.

  “He was a brooding man.”

  “He loved a woman he could never have.” Maureen laughed. “I suppose I’d be brooding, as well.”

  “Too true,” Trevor agreed.

  From the backseat, Annabel had the time to watch Maureen in an unguarded moment. Maureen Costello was a beautiful woman. Now with her short red hair swept away from her face, Annabel could gaze at the soft, almost alabaster skin beneath the freckles. She fought the urge to reach over and run her fingers through her red hair. Visions of the previous night streaked across her mind; she smiled happily, remembering how she held on to her hair. She shook her head rapidly to dispel the images before she jumped into the front seat.

  When they arrived in Dublin, Maureen gave instructions to Trevor. In a few minutes, he drove through the city and onto the paved road leading to the hospital.

  “I wish it were bigger,” Maureen said, looking at the two-story brick facility.

  “Why?” Trevor asked.

  “We’d have a better chance of getting lost in the shuffle. Park here, please.” Maureen motioned to the spot that had a sign for visitor parking.

  Trevor stopped the car and turned sideways to Maureen. “Okay. So we go in and identify ourselves. We see Michael and get him out.”

  “See if you can get a wheelchair. Maybe say you’re going to take him for a stroll…”

  “Great idea,” Annabel said. “We wheel him right out here.”

  “Right,” Trevor said, taking off his seat belt. “Suddenly, I’m nervous.”

  Maureen put a hand on his arm. “If ya can’t do this, Trevor…”

  He stopped her and took several deep breaths. Annabel rolled her eyes. “Let’s go, madam, before you hyperventilate.” She put her hand on Maureen’s shoulders. “We’ll be fine. Keep your phone handy. I’ll text you…”

  “We need a code,” Trevor said when he stopped his breathing exercise. “How about, ‘the eagle has landed’?”

  Maureen rubbed her temples. “Just text me an all clear. How’s that?”

  “Not as dramatic, but okay.” Trevor shrugged and looked in the mirror. “How do I look?”

  “Oh, please get going,” Maureen pleaded.

  “Okay, okay. We’re going.”

  Maureen turned back to Annabel. “If you can’t get him out, please just leave and we’ll think of something else. Please be careful.”

  “We will. This will work. I’ll text you when we’re in, and I’ll text you when we’re leaving. How’s that?” She laughed and shook her head. “The eagle has landed.”

  Maureen laughed then. “Go on now. I love you.”

  Annabel immediately stopped laughing. “You do?”

  “Do what?”

  “You said you loved me.”

  “I did?”

  Annabel leaned into the front seat and kissed her. “Yes. And you can’t take it back.”

  *******

  Annabel left the dumbfounded Maureen gaping at her as she followed Trevor into the hospital. He cleared his throat as he walked with a purposeful gait up to the nurse’s desk.

  “Dr. Trevor Kittredge and Dr. Annabel Mitchell. We have an eleven o’clock appointment with patient Michael Carmedy.”

  “Costello,” Annabel said quickly, pinching Trevor in the back.

  The nurse looked from one to the other, then checked her log.

  “Yes, yes. Costello,” Trevor said lightly with a wave of his hand. “One sees so many patients, you know. Just the other day, I was talking to…”

  Again, Annabel pinched him through his elegant jacket; this time, Trevor flinched and nearly let out a screech.

  “May I see
some ID, please?” After examining their identification, the nurse called the attending doctor. “He’ll be right here.” She motioned to the seats next to the desk.

  Just as they sat down, the doctor walked in.

  “I’m Dr. Brady.” He smiled and shook hands. “I hate to make this short, but I have a pressing appointment. I spoke with Mr. Costello this morning. He’s eager to talk with you, which is a good sign. He’s down the hall, turn left. Room 112.” As he walked away, he turned back. “Oh, and please tell Mr. McGowan I’m at his service at any time.”

  “Yes, I’ll tell the old boy,” Trevor said. “He’s…”

  Annabel wanted to strangle him. She gently but firmly took him by the arm. “Dr. Kittredge, Dr. Brady has an important appointment, and we need to see the patient.”

  “Oh, so sorry,” Trevor said. “Thank you, Doctor,” he said over his shoulder.

  As they walked down the hall, Trevor wrenched his arm from Annabel. “You bruised me,” he said, rubbing his elbow. “What’s the big idea?”

  “You talk too much, Einstein.”

  “Well, I’m nervous,” he whispered. “I talk when I’m nervous.”

  They turned left and checked the room numbers.

  “I’ll give you nervous,” Annabel said. “Here’s his room.” She knocked on the door; both of them looked up and down the hall. “No wheelchair.”

  “Now what?” Trevor asked.

  Annabel heard the panic in his voice. “Calm down, Trevor…”

  “Come in.”

  Annabel opened the door to see a young man sitting on the edge of his bed. He wore a pair of pajamas with no top. For someone who’d been drugged and unconscious, this guy was in extremely fit condition.

  “Michael?” Annabel asked.

  Michael grinned. “I certainly hope so. It would be very bad if you kidnapped the wrong patient.”

  Annabel closed the door; she looked at Trevor, who was practically drooling as he stared at Michael. She nudged him twice before he blinked. “Oh, yes. How do you do?”

  “I’ve done better.” Michael smiled and held out his hand, which Annabel took, then Trevor. “So what’s the plan?”

  “We have none,” Trevor said.

  “You have no plan?” Michael said.

  Annabel nearly laughed at his incredulous tone. The stark contrast between brother and sister was amazing. Where Maureen was redheaded and green-eyed, Michael was dark-haired and blue-eyed. But the smile was the same, as was the cocky attitude. Though Michael was much more easygoing and affable than Maureen. Annabel could see how this young man got in trouble…often.