Luckily, the mobsters walked them back to Brennan’s. Zach made an excuse about settling his tab and headed inside. After ducking into the bathroom to holster his gun, he traded the long black coat for his shorter navy jacket and hoped the mobsters wouldn’t notice.
They didn’t say anything as Murphy herded Zach and Healey into the backseat of his black Audi. The henchmen took a separate car — a certain maroon sedan — and they started for the mobsters’ building.
How could Zach — or Healey — bluff through a youth center curriculum discussion? And what did Murphy hope to gain from this?
“It’s a comprehensive gospel studies curriculum.” Zach settled back on Murphy’s green faux-suede couch. He’d adapted the early-morning seminary and Institute programs to a Catholic setting — and so far, no one had called him on it.
Healey frowned. “No offense, Father, but we need something a little less . . . religious.”
Zach let his shoulders sink.
“Pity,” Murphy said, rising. “Thanks for coming by, Cathal. Jay’ll take you back.”
Both lackeys stood, and so did Healey. Zach glimpsed the trepidation in his eyes at being alone with the mobster. Zach didn’t like the guy, but he wasn’t about to abandon him to his fate with these guys. “Can you take me, too?” Zach asked.
Gallaher looked to Murphy. “Actually,” Murphy began, “you —”
“Brennan’s is right by the parish. Hate to make multiple trips.” Zach tried to keep his expression steady despite the nausea creeping into his stomach. They hadn’t said Healey’s car was at the bar. He shouldn’t know where they were going.
Murphy set his jaw; Zach held his breath. But either they were slow on the uptake or didn’t realize they hadn’t mentioned it: Murphy jerked his head to give them permission to leave. The henchmen led Healey and Zach out, and Murphy brought up the rear.
Zach didn’t care if Murphy came along, as long as Gallaher didn’t take Healey somewhere alone. Who knew what might happen?
They waited for the elevator in uncomfortable silence. Finally, the elevator chimed and the doors opened to reveal Molly. She scrutinized the quintet. “Evenin’.”
“Hi, Molly.” Healey was first to respond. “Just discussing plans for the youth center.”
Zach groaned inwardly. Did he have to sound so eager to talk to her? Either Healey really liked Molly or he was still nervous, anticipating a question she might not have asked.
Molly got off the elevator, staring at Healey. “Were you, so?”
“Yeah,” Zach said. He caught the closing door and practically shoved Healey aboard.
“The five of you were?” She turned to eye them.
“What, we don’t care about the neighborhood kids?” Murphy scowled.
“I didn’t say that.”
Murphy glanced at his watch. “You ready for our meeting?”
Zach moved across the elevator to hold the Open Doors button. He had to hear this.
The heavy metal door to the stairs clanked. Molly looked over, out of Zach’s line of sight.
“Hey, Molly!” called an unseen man. “We’re here! And we brought pizza!”
“Brian. So you did.” She gave Murphy an apologetic smile.
“Hi,” said another man out of sight. “We’re —”
“I’m afraid I’ve another engagement,” Molly cut him off, turning to step between him and Murphy.
Murphy scrutinized the men over Molly’s shoulder, then Molly. “We had an appointment.”
Zach had to help. He punched the Close Doors button. “See you tomorrow, Molly.”
“Appears you’ve somewhere else to be as well,” Molly said.
Murphy and Gallaher hopped into the elevator car. Before the doors shut, Zach glimpsed Molly’s expression, concern and anger. Maybe he’d avoid the office tomorrow.
“Feds?” Hennessy murmured. Zach monitored Healey in his peripheral vision; Healey didn’t flinch.
Murphy chuckled. “Undercover as teenagers?”
Who were Molly’s visitors that saved her from Murphy — and why was she meeting with the mobster?
Molly frowned at the elevator doors. Didn’t Father Tim understand? Why was he with Doyle?
“Who was that?” Elder Ehrisman asked.
She looked to Lucy. What if Murphy came back to meet with her?
“A neighbor,” Molly said. She started for her apartment. “Shall we?”
The missionaries’ lesson started familiarly enough, with God, Christ, the Bible and its prophets. But the rest of their belief system implied the religion she’d practiced from birth wasn’t the one true faith.
The one true faith? Had she ever believed it? Truth be told, there wasn’t much she did believe anymore. Of course, at no point did anything sound unreasonable or outlandish. It all made perfect sense. And that was the problem.
Half an hour into their meeting, Molly shifted on her gray sectional to accept Elder Ehrisman’s offered book and tried to ignore the uneasy feeling growing in her middle. She read the highlighted passage inviting her to pray about the message of the Book of Mormon. She’d been too distracted Saturday night to consider the implications of a new book of scripture.
A double knock sounded. Doyle. Molly leapt to her feet to answer. Elder Ehrisman, Elder Franklin, Brian and Lucy all gawked at her like she was mad. She pointed to the door.
“That was my cup hitting the table.” Lucy picked up her empty glass from the end table and wiggled it. “Sorry.”
“Right.” Molly handed the book back to Elder Ehrisman, sinking back onto the couch. “Sorry. You were sayin’?”
“You can ask God if it’s true.” Brian jumped into the discussion for the fourth time. At least he could act somewhat normal as long as they focused on religion. “And if the Book of Mormon is true, Joseph Smith was a prophet. ‘And by their fruits . . .’”
Molly realized she was rubbing her elbow. From what little she’d read of it, the Book of Mormon was at least an uplifting book. But did it matter — did she really have to ask that?
“Molly.” Elder Franklin filled his voice and his wide brown eyes with sincerity. “Will you pray to know the Book of Mormon is the word of God?”
Surprise cleared every thought from her mind. After their extremely obvious hints she could pray about the Book of Mormon, she didn’t expect them to come right out and ask.
Elder Franklin pressed on. “He’ll answer you, I promise. I know the Book of Mormon is true.”
She nodded, trying to ignore her clammy palms. God answering her? Hard to imagine. And what would Father Tim think?
But what could it hurt to pray about it? And if she did get an answer . . .
“Will you, Molly?” Elder Ehrisman echoed his companion’s question.
Again, Molly looked at the expectantly hopeful light in the faces of the quartet surrounding her. She tucked her hands under her tweed skirt. “All right.”
Lucy, Brian and the missionaries all broke into instant grins, Brian’s the widest. He threw an arm around her shoulders and squeezed. Molly waited two long seconds to free herself. She forced a smile as they bid the elders goodbye. Brian stayed to hem and haw about his lame knee and the nursing he needed — until Molly asked him to help clean. He left in under a minute.
Lucy pulled her long blond hair back before collecting the water glasses. “Hey, what happened to my meeting with Father Tim yesterday?” she asked in a suspiciously blithe tone.
“I’ve no idea. Have you not seen him?”
“Not since Saturday. Sorry I stormed off like that, I just didn’t expect to see . . . him.”
Molly balled up the unused napkins a little tighter than needful. “He didn’t seem too surprised. You know him better than I, though.”
“No, no, he’s only a casual acquaintance. Really.” Lucy put the used paper plates inside the empty pizza box.
Sure she would say that. Molly simply nodded.
&nbs
p; “What’d you hear?” Lucy leaned forward with urgency. “I mean, what’d he say?”
“He hasn’t said a word about it since.” Molly checked herself. Was she actually glad to report something that might hurt Lucy? She had no reason to be jealous.
“Honestly, we were never more than friends. Sometimes not even that — we fought a lot.”
Casual acquaintances who fought a lot? “Sure.” Molly picked up the pizza box and stuffed the napkins inside. “I’ll walk you out.”
After a silent, awkward elevator ride, Lucy tried again to convince her in the car park. “Really. There’s never been anything between me and Za — zat man.”
She protested too much, especially with that odd accent. Molly stopped scanning the cars for Doyle’s black Audi and cocked her head.
Lucy bit her lip. “I’ll prove it to you: come with us to dinner tomorrow. We’re going to C, where I had dinner with Paul?”
Molly turned back to her friend. The idea of tagging along wasn’t appealing — but neither was not knowing what they were doing in a romantic restaurant. “All right.”
Lucy laughed in nervous relief. Molly threw away the rubbish and waved goodbye to Lucy, but she couldn’t ignore the uncertainty turning her stomach sick — and for once it wasn’t Doyle Murphy’s fault. Which of her commitments worried her most?
Zach was about to call his sister to cancel dinner Wednesday night when his phone rang — Lucy. He’d barely gotten out a greeting when she launched into her breathless story. “Zach! I didn’t know who to call. I mean, the police wouldn’t actually believe me anyway —”
“Whoa, slow down. What’s going on?”
“I don’t recognize the driver, but it’s a maroon Mercury. Following me.”
He’d wanted to downplay the mob to Lucy, but he couldn’t pretend this threat wasn’t real. Zach realized he’d slid to the edge of the parish house’s worn couch, his stomach buzzing. He managed to keep his voice calm. “Why do you think he’s following you?”
“You think I’m stupid? Every time I make a turn, he does too.”
“For how long?”
“Since I left school.”
Zach checked the clock. School ended two hours ago. Had she stayed late, or had she been driving all this time? “Okay, they say you shouldn’t go home if you’re being followed.”
“Who told you that one, ‘this little thing called the Internet’?”
Classic Lucy, sarcasm at the worst possible moment. “Don’t go anywhere alone. Stay in a public place.”
“Like the restaurant? Don’t tell me you forgot dinner at C tonight.”
She hadn’t said anything about going out to eat — but it’d give him the chance to make sure she was safe. “Just running late.”
Zach only reached the parish parking lot before he nearly ran into Lucy’s seminary-student crush. Paul had been snooping around the mob too much, too. If Lucy was on their list, Paul could be next. He shook Zach’s hand with a solemn nod of greeting.
“What are you up to tonight?” Zach asked.
Paul ruffled his blond hair. “Nothing, really.”
Zach cut to the point. “You should come with me. I’m meeting Lucy for dinner. You know, priest, girl, restaurant — awkward?”
“Don’t want to intrude.” Paul rubbed the back of his neck. Speaking of awkward.
“I insist.” He half-dragged Paul to the bus stop. “You know where C is?”
“Sure. Right on this route.”
For once, something was going his way. He hoped it wasn’t the last time tonight.
Lucy was waiting by a fake-plaster wall when Zach and Paul walked into the restaurant twenty minutes later. “Hey, Luce. Look who I ran into on the way here.”
She bared her teeth in an expression closer to a grimace than a grin. “Hi.” She tugged a lock of her blond ponytail.
“Hope that’s okay.” Paul glanced at each of them.
“Of course,” Lucy said. “You solved the mystery, after all.”
Now what did they do? Zach pretended he hadn’t heard, scanning the restaurant for the best tactical position — er, table — in the atmospheric lighting.
“Any problems finding the ‘place,’ Father Tim?” Lucy asked.
“None.” He hadn’t seen the maroon car, and with Paul there he couldn’t search the lot. But neither could Paul and Lucy. Better to keep them out of trouble than save them from it.
Smiling, Lucy craned her neck past him to the door. “Hi, Molly.”
Zach groaned inwardly. What had Lucy done?
The perky hostess stepped forward. “Is this all of your group?”
“Just a minute.” Zach grabbed Lucy’s arm and dragged her into the vestibule between the sets of double doors. “What are you thinking?” he asked once the glass doors swung shut.
“What were you thinking? You brought Paul here to watch me squirm.”
But what she’d done was somehow okay? “Are you kidding me? Running into him on the way here is totally different from inviting her in advance. Which of us do you hate?”
Lucy rolled her eyes. “Quit making this about you. Not everything is, you know.”
“I forgot, it’s about you — as always.”
“How could you do this to me?”
Way to prove his point. “You know, there’s a remote chance you two could be together, but Molly and I don’t even have that.”
“Yeah, right.” Lucy kicked at the fake cobblestone floor in a show of impatience. “You know I wouldn’t get married outside of the temple. And P.S., he’s taking a vow of celibacy.”
Zach cleared his throat and pointed to himself. “Can’t imagine what that’s like. Do you have any idea what this is doing to her?”
Lucy scoffed and pointed at herself, too. “Believe it or not, I do.” She tried to sneak a glance at Molly and Paul fidgeting inside the restaurant. “Listen, she’s one of the best friends I have here. She was acting weird about us seeing each other Saturday. I want to prove we’re just friends.”
“Friends? That’s pushing it.”
“Fine. Go home. Let her think there’s something between us you don’t want her to see, and leave us all to the mercy of these criminals.”
He looked to the nearly-dark parking lot. If Gallaher was out there, maybe this was the best place for Zach, and for his case. He closed his eyes in resignation. This could not end well.
Molly kneaded her elbow through her jacket, watching the animated argument through the glass doors. Casual or not, if they fought like this, Lucy and Tim’s relationship couldn’t have lasted long. But that didn’t matter. She’d handle her jealousy, and dinner together wouldn’t help anything. Molly pushed open the vestibule door as Father Tim reached for it.
“Ready?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Wouldn’t want to be a third — fourth wheel. I’ll just be goin’.”
“Molly,” Lucy and Father Tim said in identical imploring tones.
She waved a hand as if she could brush aside their concerns like cobwebs. She edged to the exterior doors — and saw Jay Gallaher’s maroon sedan rolling through the car park. She made eye contact with Father Tim. Did he recognize —
“You should stay.” His tone and his nod were equally firm.
“Then I’ll go.” Paul tried to squeeze between them.
“No, no.” Molly spun him one hundred and eighty degrees.
Father Tim clapped a hand on Paul’s shoulder. “Nobody has to leave.”
“That’s right, our table’s waitin’.” Molly took Lucy’s elbow and hoped the gesture came off as friendly. They finally followed the confused hostess.
Whatever Father Tim had discussed last night with Cathal, Doyle and Jay, he finally seemed to understand the danger. Molly and Tim released their captives at their table. Paul held out a chair, but once Molly let go of Lucy’s arm, Father Tim pulled Lucy aside again.
“Where’d you park?” he de
manded, his voice tense, and well above a whisper.
Lucy glanced at the doors. “Strip mall across the street.”
Tim released her, the tension in his jaw slackening. Lucy allowed Paul to scoot her to the table, and Molly took hold of the contemporary spindle-back chair by Lucy’s — the seat with the best view of the front doors.
“Um, Moll.” Tim pulled out the next chair over for her.
“Oh, thank you, but I’d rather sit here.”
He motioned for her to step away from the table. She folded her arms, but obliged him. She was careful to keep her volume low enough to avoid attention. “I need that chair.”
“Not a good idea.”
He knew she’d been a Garda, and she certainly knew the mobsters better than he did. Couldn’t he see why she needed the best tactical position? Molly put on her you’re-more-likely-to-win-at-the-lottery look. “I’ll be takin’ the seat.”
Tim checked on their audience. Paul hovered by Lucy’s chair. They both stared, waiting. Tim swept a hand in their direction. “If it’s that important to you,” he said, his whisper as begrudging as his invitation.
Once they were all seated, Paul asked the second most obvious question. “Lucy, how do you and Father Tim know each other again?”
“We were really close neighbors,” Father Tim supplied.
“Same floor.” Lucy didn’t look up from her menu.
“Quit it, Luce.” He turned back to Paul. “We grew up on the same street.”
Molly had to loosen her fists to pick up her menu.
“Hey, Moll.” Tim dropped his nickname for Molly as easily as Lucy’s. “They have cockles and mussels.”
She checked her menu and joined in Lucy and Tim’s polite laughter. The joke dispelled a little of the tension knotting in her shoulders.
They placed their orders and moved to a more comfortable topic — favorite movies. But once the check was paid and they filed to the doors, the easy conversation was all but gone.
How many of them were wondering whether Gallaher was still out there?
Tim took Molly’s jacket off her arm once they reached the vestibule doors. He slid the coat onto her shoulders, leaning close enough to whisper. “He has to be gone by now.”
Saints & Spies Page 19
