Laced

by Carol Higgins Clark

  “We finally got it right,” Brad said jovially as he handed glasses of sparkling water to everyone. “Linda and I are having the time of our lives. And we made a pact to always keep in shape, so that’s why we did the Fun Run.”

  “Here I am with a roomful of newlyweds,” Breda said, fidgeting with excitement. “I feel like an old married lady.”

  “Hey,” Brad said, “you’re doing all right. That husband of yours is a nice guy.”

  “Indeed!” Breda agreed. “Life gets a little boring at times, but I’m happy.”

  Regan smiled. Breda was clearly thrilled to have a little excitement thrown into her day, and Linda was obviously a woman in love. She was positively glowing and not just because of her large diamond earrings and numerous gold necklaces, bling not normally found on someone gardening. They must be presents from Brad, Regan decided.

  “Ours is a mature love,” Linda said, smiling at Brad with adoration and sounding like an earnest talk show guest. “We both found out what we didn’t want.”

  “I found out a few things I didn’t want, but there’s nothing I can do about it now,” Breda said. She laughed, slapped her knee, and looked around the room to make sure everyone appreciated her joke. They did.

  Brad worked in finance, and Linda was a real estate agent. They met when he was trying to find an apartment to rent after splitting up with his wife.

  “When I met Linda, all the clouds parted,” Brad said, gesturing out the front window. “She lit up my life,” he declared, sitting on the ottoman in front of Linda’s chair and putting his hand on her leg. “I bring her coffee in bed every morning—”

  Breda looked awestruck.

  “—and never once has she nagged me to take out the garbage.”

  Just wait, Regan thought.

  Jack cleared his throat. Regan could tell he wanted to get down to brass tacks. But Brad wasn’t finished.

  “Our friends tease us,” Brad continued, “because we’re so over the moon in love.”

  Linda giggled, placed her hands on her husband’s back, and started to massage his shoulders.

  We had better make this fast, Regan thought. Breda was about to fall off her chair.

  “Isn’t being a newlywed just wonderful, Regan?” Linda cooed, wrapping her arms around her husband and resting her head on his shoulder.

  “Yes,” Regan agreed. “We’re very happy. But we don’t want to keep you, so if you don’t mind, we’ll just ask a couple of questions about the race and be on our way.”

  “Do you want to stay for dinner?” Brad asked with great enthusiasm. “We have steaks in the freezer.”

  “No, thank you,” Jack answered. “We’re having dinner with a cousin of Regan’s in Galway. Gerard Reilly. He has a radio show here.”

  Linda and Brad’s faces were blank. “I’ve never heard of Gerard Reilly. Have you, honey?” Linda asked, nuzzling her nose against her husband’s sweater.

  “No.”

  “Well, anyway, he’s expecting us,” Jack then quickly gave more details to the Thompsons about why they were there. “We know you signed up for the Fun Run right before the race began. Did you happen to see the very last couple who signed up? They were probably in their forties. Apparently the woman tripped right near the registration table—and the man had a strange laugh.”

  Linda lifted her head from Brad’s shoulder. “I remember them!”

  “You do?” Regan asked.

  “Yes! His laugh was strange. And there was something about the woman that reminded me of someone I knew, but I couldn’t figure out who.”

  “Someone you knew?” Regan asked.

  “Yes. Someone from my past, but I can’t place her. I almost went over to talk to her, but she didn’t look very approachable. I think she was annoyed that her husband was laughing so hard. Then the race was about to start, and they hurried off. I’ve met so many people showing apartments, I figured she reminded me of one of the clients I showed a million apartments to who never bought anything. Those people I try to forget.”

  “What about this woman triggered the memory of someone else?” Regan asked.

  “It was after she fell. When she stood up, it was the way she stretched her arms and ran in place for a second.”

  “A lot of runners do that, honey,” Brad said.

  “But this was different. And there was something else she did. I just can’t think of what it was.”

  “Did she look like someone you knew?” Regan asked.

  Linda shook her head. “She had on a cap and big sunglasses and a bulky windbreaker. I didn’t get a good look at her face. It was more of a profile. Oh! That was the other thing. The way her jaw was moving. It looked like she was chewing on a lozenge or something.”

  This is getting us nowhere, Regan thought. “Was there anything else about her that you remember?” she asked.

  “Not really.”

  “Did either of you notice anything unusual that happened at the race?”

  They both shook their heads. “You know how it is in the early stages of love,” Brad said, “you only have eyes for each other. You don’t notice anything else because you’re the only two people in the whole wide world.”

  “Of course,” Jack said, putting down his glass of water on a coaster. “We really appreciate your time. If you think of anything else or figure out who this woman reminded you of, please contact us.” He reached in his wallet for his card.

  Linda grimaced. “I wish I could remember who it was.”

  Brad patted her leg. “You will, honey.”

  They all stood. Regan walked over to take a closer look at the wedding pictures. “You were a beautiful bride,” she said to Linda honestly.

  Linda smiled. “Thank you.”

  “She looked gorgeous!” Brad boasted.

  “It helped to have a good makeup artist,” Linda joked. “The one I had at my first wedding eight years ago was absolutely terrific, but she left town—” Linda put her hand to her mouth, a shocked expression on her face.

  “What is it, baby?” Brad asked.

  “That’s who that woman reminded me of! Anna! She did the makeup at my first wedding.”

  Brad covered his ears. “I can’t stand to hear about your marriage to that awful man,” he said playfully.

  “If we could just talk about the makeup artist for a minute,” Jack said, urgency in his tone. “You say you lost touch with her?”

  “Yes. After my wedding, she did my makeup a few more times and then one day when I called, her cell phone had been disconnected. No one knew where she was.”

  “Why did the woman at the race remind you of her?” Regan asked.

  “When Anna did the makeup for me and my bridesmaids the day of the wedding, she had to keep bending over because we didn’t have a chair that was the right height. Her back started to bother her. She started joking around and did a few stretches and some running in place. That woman at the race was moving and stretching just the way Anna did! She massaged her neck with both hands, exactly as Anna did. And her jaw was moving constantly, just like Anna’s! Anna popped breath mints every two seconds. I think she gave some of her clients a complex. You know how when people offer you a breath mint, you think it’s because you need it.”

  “Do you remember her last name?” Regan asked quickly.

  “Ohhhh, what was it?” Linda shook her head. “I don’t remember. I’ll have to call my hairdresser. He recommended her to me. It was eight years ago.”

  “Can you call your hairdresser now?” Regan asked.

  “Sure.”

  “Here, use my cell phone,” Jack said, pulling it out of his pocket. “I’ll dial the number for you.”

  “I know that number by heart,” Linda said. “It’s a good thing I didn’t switch hairdressers, or he’d never take my call. And not many women in New York keep the same hairdresser forever. The number is 212…”

  Jack dialed and handed her the phone.

  When the receptionist at the salon answered,
she told Linda that Rocco was with a very important client and would have to call back.

  “Tell Rocco this is urgent!” Linda demanded, authority in her voice. “Tell him I’m calling from my home in Ireland.”

  “Just a moment.”

  Regan, Jack, Breda, Brad, and Linda were all standing in the living room, anxiously waiting for Rocco to put down his scissors and come to the phone. Breda had all her fingers crossed.

  “Hello, Rocco,” Linda said.

  They listened as she asked him about Anna.

  “I know she disappeared off the face of the earth without saying goodbye…. I don’t know if she ever got married…. What was her last name?…Hager…that’s right. It was Hager. Thanks, Rocco, I’ll see you the minute I get back—cut and color. Bye.” Linda handed the phone back to Jack. “Anna Hager was a makeup artist in New York City. Rocco recommended her to all his clients for years, then eight years ago she was gone.”

  “Could something have happened to her?” Regan asked.

  Linda shook her head. “When we couldn’t find Anna, Rocco went to her apartment to see if she was okay. She’d given her landlord three days’ notice, paid the rent, and moved out. It really hurt Rocco’s feelings that she didn’t tell him. He sent her a lot of clients.”

  “Thank you, Linda,” Regan said. “We’ll look into it. It could be that Anna just wanted to make a change in her life.”

  “New York can be a rat race,” Linda said. “And she seemed like such a nice girl. I cannot believe she might be a jewel thief.”

  “A jewel thief who knows a lot about how to disguise herself,” Jack said. “And Anna was a makeup artist. But, listen, we can’t convict her yet. We’ll follow up on this and let you know what we find.”

  Linda’s face went pale. “I just remembered something Anna told me.”

  “What?” Regan asked.

  “She told me she’d done makeup for a magician who taught her a few tricks…like how to steal someone’s watch right off their wrist. We laughed about it. It seemed like a joke at the time.”

  “If Anna is our Jane Doe, then it’s not a joke anymore,” Jack said. “We’d better get going.”

  29

  Anna and Bobby were almost home. Bobby had complained about his tooth repeatedly, questioned the wisdom of stealing the Claddagh rings, and then to Anna’s delight had lowered his seat and fallen asleep. They were both exhausted. She longed for some music but didn’t turn on the radio for fear she’d waken him. We’ll go home and take it easy, she thought, then wondered what they should have for dinner. Nothing too chewy.

  As they entered the village of Westweg, which was only a fifteen-minute drive from their home, Anna decided to make a quick stop. She’d been in the general store once and remembered they had delicious soup and sandwiches. I’ll run in and see what kind of soup they have today, she thought. That’s all Bobby will want tonight, I’m sure.

  When she parked the car, Bobby didn’t even wake up. She quietly got out, crossed the street, and hurried inside the store. The aroma of fresh baked bread and spices filled the shop, and she was glad she’d made the effort to stop. A man’s voice called out from the back. “I’ll be right with you. Sorry, my wife ran out for a few minutes. She should be returning soon, at least I hope she will.”

  “Okay,” Anna said politely, looking around. She took a basket and started filling it with groceries. She reached up to a shelf against the wall and grabbed a box of cookies.

  “May I help you?”

  “Oh!” Anna squeaked, whirling around and taking in the sight of a ruddy-faced, barrel-chested man with black hair and a mustache. “I didn’t hear you.”

  “Are you all right?” he asked, then smiled. “I’m not that scary, am I?”

  “No, you’re not. I’m very tired, that’s all. What’s your soup today?”

  “Chicken noodle.”

  “Could I have a large container please?”

  “Sure.” He turned and headed for the kitchen.

  Anna finished shopping, walked to the back, and started unloading her groceries from the basket onto the counter.

  “I can’t believe my wife isn’t back yet,” the storekeeper said, putting the hot container on the counter and then ringing up the charges.

  “I’m sure she’ll show up soon,” Anna said.

  “You don’t know my wife,” he grumbled good-naturedly.

  Anna paid him in cash and watched as he bagged her items.

  “Here you go,” he said, pushing the bag toward her. “Well, what do you know, there’s my wife now—blathering on in the street. I told her she talks too much.”

  Anna turned to look. Through the glass window she could see a woman talking animatedly to a young couple. Anna gasped. It was Jack Reilly and his wife, Regan!

  “What’s the matter?” the storekeeper asked. “You seem a little jumpy.”

  “As I said, I’m tired. It’s been a long day. You know what? I’d love to have another large container of soup. It smells delicious. With this damp weather, I’m sure we’ll be eating it for days. And my husband doesn’t feel well.”

  “That’s a shame. But nothing tastes better than a nice bowl of hot chicken soup…” He turned toward the stove, his sentence trailing off.

  Anna stood with her back to the window. She was frantic. Jack Reilly probably doesn’t know what we look like, but the last thing I want to do is come face-to-face with him. I just hope Bobby doesn’t wake up. If he does and decides to get out of the car without realizing Jack Reilly’s in the street…. I should never have stopped here—never. Nervously, Anna reached in her purse, retrieved a breath mint, and popped it in her mouth. As she bit into it, she could hear the door to the store creaking open. Anna held her breath.

  “Let me know what happens, would you, please?” a woman’s voice yelled, obviously talking to someone outside. “And if you need my help at all, please, just give a call…. Grand, that would be grand…. Brilliant…”

  “Here’s your soup. I hope your husband feels better.”

  “Thank you.” Anna paid again and slowly put the change in her purse.

  The sound of the door closing and a woman calling “I’m back!” was music to Anna’s ears. She turned to catch a glimpse of Jack Reilly and his wife getting into a car and driving off. Flooded with relief, Anna picked up her bag of groceries and headed for the door.

  “Get everything you need?” the woman asked her.

  “Yes, thank you.” Anna hurried outside and across the small street to the safety of her car. Though thrilled to have made her escape, she would have been very interested in what the woman inside the store was telling her husband. Breda couldn’t get the words out fast enough.

  “And, Sam, they think Jane Doe’s real name might be Anna!”

  30

  There wasn’t much conversation on the ride back to Margaret’s cottage. The car sputtered along, sounding as if it might give up the ghost at any moment, and Margaret made noises that indicated she was experiencing dental discomfort.

  When they finally turned onto Margaret’s property, there was a collective sigh of relief. Brian pulled the car around to the back of the house, where the sight of a little greenhouse out in the field was too much for him to bear. Margaret had informed them that after her husband died she had transformed the greenhouse into a studio where she could paint.

  “I threw out all his junk and set up my canvas,” she’d explained. “That was my first mistake.”

  Brian parked and turned off the engine.

  “Home sweet home,” Margaret muttered. “I can’t wait to take to my bed.”

  “Let us help you get inside,” Sheila said, holding Margaret’s painting in her lap. Neither Sheila nor Brian was quite sure how they were going to keep it in their possession.

  “I don’t need any help,” Margaret said. She opened the back door of the car and hoisted herself out.

  Sheila and Brian looked at each other and followed suit.

  “Give me t
he painting,” Margaret said.

  Brian walked around the car and put a comforting hand on Margaret’s shoulder. “Margaret, I’m worried about you. We’ll take care of the painting until we figure out how to properly honor May Reilly. I don’t want you to be alone with the painting if there’s any chance it’ll cause you more bad luck. Are you sure you don’t want us to stay with you? We’re happy to. We can sleep on the couch and then maybe tomorrow we can get an early start and collect the rest of the paintings from your friends.”

  Margaret looked at him aghast. “I don’t want you staying in my home. No man has ever slept here except my husband and my son. I’m fine here all alone. I’ve been alone since my husband died. I can take care of myself!” She turned, went into the cottage, and slammed the door.

  Sheila and Brian hurried to their car, the painting in Sheila’s hands. They wanted to get out of there before Margaret opened the door and started yelling for her artwork.

  Margaret was beside herself. The nerve of him, she thought. In the bathroom, she flicked on the light and checked on her tooth in the tiny mirror above the sink. “Disgraceful,” she muttered. “I hope I don’t die.” Without even bothering to make a cup of tea, she lay down on her lumpy bed, fell asleep, and began to dream of May Reilly.

  Out on the road, Sheila and Brian realized they couldn’t carry the twelve-by-fifteen painting into Hennessy Castle. Until this morning that very painting had been hanging on Neil Buckley’s wall. They pulled into a little parking lot near a graveyard and carefully placed it in the trunk of their rental car. Unbeknownst to them, May Reilly’s grave was within spitting distance. A sudden gust of wind blew through the trees, causing them to sway ominously.

  “It’s getting chilly,” Sheila said, rubbing her arms.

  Back at Hennessy Castle, a female clerk at the front desk greeted them. “Welcome home!”

  “Thank you,” Sheila responded.

  “We have good news! A small stove was delivered this afternoon, so we’ll be able to serve a limited menu in the dining room tonight! Isn’t that grand?”