“You’d better drive,” Bobby whimpered. He had put Vaseline around his stub, but it was sensitive to cold air. “I can’t believe how sore it feels.”
The high from having ruined Jack Reilly’s honeymoon had been wiped out by a pebble.
“Don’t worry,” Anna said soothingly. “We’ll get you a new cap, and you’ll be fine.” I hope, she thought. With the little enthusiasm she could muster. “You look completely different. It’s a disguise we’ll have to try—going toothless,” she joked.
“That’s not funny,” Bobby whined as got in the car, put the seat back, and closed his eyes.
Good, Anna thought. Let him sulk. I’ll have some peace. She flicked on the radio to a station that played jazz. Forty-five minutes later, directions in hand, she turned onto Dr. Sharkey’s street. Her heart sank. From the look of the old row houses on the block, one wouldn’t imagine that Dr. Sharkey had a booming business. If he had any celebrity clients, they certainly didn’t need a private entrance because no paparazzi would venture here. The street was dreary and deserted. She located the house where Dr. Sharkey hung his shingle. Under his name was a red smiley-face and the words “The Smile Center.” She parked the car.
“Where are we?” Bobby asked, his voice rising as he opened his eyes and sat up. “This doesn’t look like Galway.”
“I didn’t say the dentist’s office was exactly in Galway,” Anna answered, trying to maintain a positive attitude. “We’re near Galway.”
“But this looks like the dentist’s house I went to when I was six years old! My mother said he should only fill potholes. And Dr. Favorman’s office in Los Angeles is so plush and nice.” Bobby was panicked.
“Do you realize how many dentists I called before I could find anyone to fit you in today? Besides, it’s not as if you’re getting a root canal or a tooth pulled. He’ll just fix you up with a temporary cap. How much can that hurt?”
“A lot.”
“If this doesn’t work out, we’ll find another dentist. We’ll drive to Dublin if we have to.”
The entrance to the office was on the side of the house. Anna and Bobby walked along the cracked sidewalk to the door, rang the bell, and, as the sign above the bell instructed them, walked right in. The tiny waiting room, with its three orange velour folding chairs, cracked linoleum floor, and drab paneled walls, was ghastly. The sound of a whirring drill pierced the air.
Bobby immediately turned to leave, but Anna grabbed his arm. “I want to go home,” he whimpered. “This place even smells exactly like that dentist office I just told you about.”
“It’ll be okay,” Anna promised.
A birdlike woman, who had to be at least eighty, was seated at a makeshift reception desk. Engrossed in a television soap opera and eating mysterious gruel from a tin can, she gave no indication that she was aware of their presence. Anna walked over and rested her purse on the raised Formica countertop above the woman’s desk where people presumably forked over the money to be tortured. The “receptionist” remained riveted to the screen as two gorgeous young girls started screaming at each other about a man. One of them tried to slap the other, missed, and in two seconds they were rolling around the floor, scratching, clawing, and pulling each other’s hair. In the middle of such high drama, the show cut to a commercial. Soap operas are the same the world over, Anna thought.
The old woman shook her head disapprovingly, mumbled, “He’s not worth it, girls,” and then looked up at Anna. “Are you here for the cap?” she croaked. Her gray hair was pulled up in a bun, and frameless glasses rested on her pointy nose. Her Irish eyes were unsmiling. She wore a simple maroon jacket over a white blouse, and a garish rainbow pin was attached to her left lapel.
“Yes, we are,” Anna answered, anxious to make everything go smoothly. “I love your pin,” she lied.
“It’s a gift from my son,” the woman answered, not a shred of maternal pride in her voice. “Dr. Sharkey is with a patient. I have some forms for you to fill out.” She put down her spoon, opened a drawer, then another, and on the third try finally retrieved a clipboard with a cheap pen dangling from it on a ratty piece of string. “Here,” she said, handing it to Anna. She then reached over to a shelf on the wall. “And here are the forms.”
Anna frowned at the sight of all the questions on the first page. “Do we really have to fill these out? We just want a temporary cap to tide my husband over, and we’re paying cash. Our dentist is in the States.”
The woman stared up at her. “You’re paying cash?”
“Yes.”
She waved her hand dismissively. “Just have a seat then.” Picking up her spoon, she turned her gaze back to the television.
The folding chairs proved to be as uncomfortable as they looked. Seated next to Bobby, who again had his eyes closed, Anna picked up a dusty magazine from the table next to her. It was dated three years ago. She dropped it back on the table.
The sight of Bobby looking so vulnerable was distressing. She didn’t blame him for being a wreck. She certainly wouldn’t have wanted to be in his shoes right now. Gently placing her hand on his, she leaned toward him. “Sweetie, we’ll do something fun and exciting after this,” she said softly, talking to him as if he were a child.
“Like what?” he asked somberly, opening his eyes
“I’ll think of something.”
The drill, which had mercifully stopped, started up again. Whirrrrrrrr. Pause. Whirrrrrrrrrrrr. Pause. Whirrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. Bobby squeezed her hand hard.
These walls must be made of cardboard, Anna thought.
Several excruciating minutes later the door to the treatment room flew open. A bearded man with tufts of gray hair spouting from the sides of his otherwise bald head emerged with the air of a general triumphant in victory. “Mother,” he said jovially, “let’s make another appointment for Mr. O’Leary, shall we? We made a lot of progress today. Yes, indeed!”
Mother? No wonder she doesn’t have to worry about customer relations, Anna thought. But what’s even more frightening is his taste in jewelry.
Mr. O’Leary stumbled out. Big, bulky, and middle-aged, he was attired in jeans, a red and black flannel jacket, and work boots. Watching him walk haltingly to the desk was like witnessing a baby taking his first steps. Anna wondered if he was the patient who hadn’t been to a dentist in twenty years. If he is, I bet it’s another twenty before he comes back, she decided.
Dr. Sharkey turned to Anna and Bobby and smiled. “Next victim!” he bellowed, then laughed heartily. “I made you smile, didn’t I? Welcome to the smile center! I understand it’s the gentleman who is here to see me.”
What a nerd this guy is, Anna thought.
Bobby nodded gravely, stood, and followed the cheery Dr. Sharkey into the treatment room. Before the door shut, Anna got a quick glance of a dentist’s chair that needed serious reupholstering, a tray lined with sharp metal utensils, and a tank of what she suspected might be nitrous oxide. She turned and watched as O’Leary took his appointment card, tried to locate his pocket but missed twice, and exited as though he’d just downed six beers. That must be nitrous oxide in there, she thought. And judging from Dr. Sharkey’s behavior, the tank must have sprung a leak.
Mother Sharkey had switched the TV channel to the news. She poured tea from a thermos as a reporter for a local station gave an update on the fire at Hennessy Castle.
“We just received word from a reliable source that a man and woman working together stole the tablecloth and set the fire, and left a note for Jack Reilly, an American who is head of the Major Case Squad in—”
Anna’s heart raced. She was exhilarated. All fears of prison were banished from her mind. This is what she lived for.
“—Reilly is reportedly not happy. He’s on his honeymoon, and looking for a couple known as Jane and John Doe is not the way he wanted to spend time with his new bride.”
Too bad, Anna thought.
“—The only description given of this couple is that
they are average-looking—average height, average weight, no unusual characteristics. It’s easy for them to slip in and out of disguises and blend into crowds because they are so very average.”
The nerve of them, Anna mused. I feel pretty—like Maria in West Side Story.
“They were disguised as an elderly couple, but now who knows what appearance they’ve taken on? Whatever it is, you can be sure they don’t want to attract attention.”
That’s why we’re in this dump, Anna thought. A missing front tooth will most likely elicit a fair share of double takes.
“Anyone who has any leads, please call the garda.”
Uh-oh.
“Would you like to take a look at the newspaper?” Mother Sharkey asked sweetly.
Anna almost jumped. She was so startled to hear the receptionist speak to her. And the woman’s timing seemed suspect. “Thank you, I would.” She went over and retrieved a local Galway paper from the older woman’s outstretched hand.
Mother Sharkey snapped off the television. “I’m going into the house for a few minutes. If you’ll excuse me…” She didn’t wait for an answer, exiting through a door behind her desk, clutching the thermos bottle.
For a moment Anna panicked. Could this suddenly friendly woman be calling the garda about them? No. Anna realized she was being paranoid. Mother Sharkey is probably filling that thermos with whiskey. Anna glanced down and was immediately riveted by the headline on the front page of the paper.
CLADDAGH RINGS FOUND IN GALWAY BASEMENT
AUTHENTICATED AS ORIGINALS!
AUCTION EXPECTED TO FETCH A TIDY SUM!
Claddagh rings? Anna remembered that a couple of her Irish American friends in New York wore Claddagh rings. Her eyes widened as she skimmed the article.
Claddagh rings originated over three hundred years ago in Claddagh, a little fishing village in Galway. Legend has it that a Richard Joyce, who was from one of the original family tribes in Galway, had been kidnapped by pirates when he was on a trip to the West Indies. He was taken to Algiers where he was sold as a slave to a goldsmith who taught him the trade. Joyce proved to be very adept. In 1689, when King William III of England demanded the release of British slaves from Algiers, the goldsmith begged Joyce to stay, marry his daughter, and assume half his fortune. But Richard refused.
What an idiot, Anna thought as she continued reading.
Joyce returned to Galway where he found his true love still unmarried and waiting for him. He presented her with a ring whose design featured two hands holding a heart topped with a crown. The couple married, and together they lovingly made copies of her ring for the next forty years. Jewelers in Ireland and now the world over have been making Claddagh rings ever since. The announcement that Joyce’s five recently discovered rings will be available for sale is cause for excitement. The rings bear his stamp and are sure to fetch untold sums when they are put up for auction in Galway on Friday, April 15.
That’s this Friday, Anna thought. Then she looked at the date on the paper. It was a week old. She continued to read:
A cocktail party will be held at the Galway Arts Center where the rings will be on display before the 8 P.M. auction. The owner of the house where the rings were found plans to give half the proceeds from the sale of the rings to various Irish charities.
Not if I can help it, Anna thought excitedly. We’re going to steal those rings and sell them for a fortune on the black market. How many wealthy Irish around the world would love to have an original Claddagh ring? Wait until Bobby hears this! He’s bored sitting around the cottage, and so am I. We need to do something to make us feel alive. I told him I’d find something fun. I just hope this wacky dentist can make a decent-looking cap for him.
She could hear Bobby through the wall, laughing and talking loudly. That nitrous must be starting to affect him. She cocked her head to listen.
“We love to travel, just love it. We go all over. Henh, henh, henh. Henh, henh. Yes, we’re American. That’s your mother working out there, huh? My wife was admiring her pin. You picked it out? Super! My wife loves nice jewelry, too. I mean she really likes nice jewelry. I mean really, really, really likes jewelry. Henh, henh, henh, henh, henh, henh.”
Anna jumped up and yanked open the door to the treatment room. Dr. Sharkey looked at her with a shocked expression. Bobby’s face was covered with a mask, and, not surprisingly, he didn’t budge.
“Is anything wrong?” Dr. Sharkey asked.
“I heard my husband laughing. He shouldn’t have that gas. He has a little heart problem,” Anna said, gesturing toward her chest.
“A heart problem? He didn’t tell me that. That’s why we want you to fill out those awful forms!” Dr. Sharkey turned, shut off the gas, and then tapped Bobby on the shoulder. “You’re a scoundrel!”
“But—henh, henh.”
“Sweetie, no gas,” Anna said firmly.
“But I—”
“No.”
“I won’t let him have any more of the funny stuff,” Dr. Sharkey promised. “I’ll tell him jokes to make him laugh. Now, if you’ll go back to the waiting room, I’ll have him looking gorgeous in no time.”
Average, Anna thought. Just make him look average.
17
Regan and Jack stopped to talk to Clara on the way out of the Get in Shape gym. They showed her the list of people who had signed up at the last minute for the Fun Run in November.
“I don’t know any of them,” Clara said, shaking her head and tugging on one of her many earrings.
“Rory told us that one couple signed up right before the race started and signed a registration form, but their handwriting was so bad, he couldn’t read their names to add them to the final list of runners. Is there any chance you remember them?” Regan asked. “I know it was five months ago,” she acknowledged.
“Oh, those two! I remember them.” Clara scrunched her nose and started to laugh.
“You remember them?” Jack asked, surprise in his voice.
“For sure. They came running up to the table at the last minute. He signed their names super-fast, paid the money, and they pinned on their numbers. Then they dashed off to the starting line but didn’t get far. She tripped on her shoelace and fell. The guy started laughing really hard. I mean, he helped her up, and she was okay. I remember it because his laugh was so weird. A friend was helping me with the registration, and we started cracking up, and the fella started laughing even harder. He thought we were laughing at his wife, but we were laughing at his laugh.” She shook her head, smiling at the memory. “My friend and I still joke about his stupid laugh. It’s silly, but it’s one of those things.”
“I understand,” Regan said, thinking of how she and her best friend, Kit, still reminisced about some of the memorable characters they had met since college. “What was the laugh like?” she asked.
“I’m not as good as my friend is at it,” Clara said. “Maebeth is a perfect mimic.”
“Could you try?” Regan asked.
Clara smiled. “Okay. It was—” she scrunched up her face—“Hey, hey, hey. No, wait a minute. It didn’t sound like that. It was hey, hey, hey.” Clara grimaced. “Wait a second.” She picked up the phone and dialed at the speed of sound. “Maebeth, I need for you to do the laugh…. I’ll explain later…. Let me put you on speaker phone.”
“Hellllllo,” Maebeth said playfully, her Irish lilting voice coming through loud and clear. “Here I ammmmm.” She sounded so young and happy.
“Okay, go,” Clara ordered. “Do it.”
“Henh, henh. Henh, henh, henh.”
“That’s perfect!” Clara exulted. “Do a couple more.”
“Henh, henh. Henh, henh, henh.”
The two friends started to guffaw.
“Thanks, Maebeth. I’ll ring you later—”
“Wait a minute,” Regan interrupted. “Since we have Maebeth on the phone, can we ask you a few more questions?”
“Sure,” Clara answered. “Maebeth, some people her
e need information about the fella with the laugh and his wife.”
“Henh, henh, henh, henh,” Maebeth continued for good measure. “Henh, henh, henh, henh—”
“That’s great, Maebeth,” Regan said. “Can you give us a description of what they looked like?”
“They were wearing caps and big sunglasses and windbreakers. They both had brown hair and looked as old as my parents. You know, in their forties,” Maebeth volunteered. “But unlike my parents you could tell they both worked out a lot. Not an extra kilo on either one of them.”
“Anything unusual about them at all?” Jack asked. “Besides the laugh?” he added.
“Isn’t the laugh enough?” Clara giggled.
Not really, Regan thought. We’re looking for an average middle-aged couple. Male possibly has a distinguishing laugh. We could use more help. “What nationality were they?” Regan asked.
“American,” both girls answered.
Jack gave Clara his card. “Thank you, girls, so much. If you remember anything else about those two, or anything unusual about the race, please let us know.”
“Sure.”
Out in the car, Regan and Jack looked at each other. “What now?” Regan asked. “Go tell jokes to everyone we meet. Stake out comedy clubs?”
Jack rubbed his eyes. “Call your cousin Gerard. If he knows everything going on in Galway, maybe he can help us with these names.”
Twenty minutes later they were walking into Gerard’s office at a small radio station in the center of Galway.
18
Back at Hennessy Castle, Neil Buckley was doing his best to cope. Most of the guests had checked out, others had called to cancel their upcoming reservations, and there was no new stove in sight.
The garda had come by to investigate the theft and the fire but had already gone on their way. The owners of the hotel were calling demanding answers, of which he had none. Neil’s wife, Felicity, rang him for the third time in two hours.
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