“Tucker!” I said, with a pained voice that begged, How could you?
“Lane, I’m sorry. This wasn’t my plan. It’s not . . . what I wanted,” he said in a choked voice.
In a flash, Finn pulled his gun and was pointing it at Tucker.
“Put it down, Brodie!”
“Tucker . . . Okay! Okay! It’s going down,” said Finn, not taking his eyes off Tucker’s gun, his voice trying to soothe the savage beast.
“Throw it on the ground!” Finn did.
Just then, the three attackers from yesterday came around the corner from across the street, guns drawn, backing up Tucker. And that hunch was confirmed: Tucker had been working with them, engineering those scenes of danger and pursuit . . . Why?
“Yo, boss, you okay?” they asked Tucker as they took up their position behind us. Goddamn it.
Finn’s eyes were darting back and forth between Tucker and his henchmen, summing up the pitiful situation, his posture tense and defensive, ready to react to anything.
Things were already out of control, but then a new element added another degree to the chaos. My three barbershop friends came out of their shop directly behind Finn—each of their elderly hands holding guns. Two shotguns and one rifle, to be precise, pointing them directly at the large men behind me, the rifle on Tucker.
“Holy shit,” said the big guy who had taken a shot at Tucker and me yesterday. Summed up the situation quite well.
Tucker, who was no dummy, could tell things were deteriorating rapidly and said, “All right, nobody panic. I won’t hurt Lane.”
“Prove it!” demanded Benson. For rather shaky octogenarians, their capable hands didn’t waver the slightest. They meant business. Sirens sounded in the distance.
“All right, all right,” said Tucker releasing my shoulders but keeping the gun on me.
One final crazy element happened that set everything into motion, like the tip of the first domino that begins the falling of a thousand pieces. One more player. One more distraction. Finn’s mouth quirked slightly on one side and he looked at me, his glittering eyes telling me get ready.
An incredibly loud BOOM sounded from behind me. I felt a great shove from behind and simultaneously heard several guns going off, a lot of grappling and running feet. I had been painfully shoved, and was launched forward practically into the air. Finn caught me up in his arms before we both landed hard on the ground. He put a hand over my head, crushing me to his chest, sheltering me from the ruckus and the bullets that were flying. I held on as tight as I could. Despite the fear and the pulsing adrenaline and desperation, I was never so happy in my life.
The noise died down, I felt Finn relax his muscles slightly, and we both started to sit up. He pulled me to my feet, both of us looking around to find out what had happened.
Father MacQueen. He had been the rather large domino that started the pieces falling, the cornerstone that threw everything to our favor. He had an enormous shotgun in one arm, one of the attackers in an effortless headlock with the other arm, and an ear-to-ear grin plastered to his pleased face. My elderly friends had come to form ranks around me and Finn. Tucker and the other guy were gone.
Everyone looked at everyone else.
Benson said loudly, “Everyone all right?”
We all looked down at ourselves. Father MacQueen grinned even more, like he hadn’t had this much fun in years. Benson, Fred, and Jasper all nodded, and Finn turned to me.
“Lane,” he said in his deep whisper, looking deep into my eyes. “Are you all right?”
I nodded, smiling, tears slipping down my cheeks. “Yes. I’m very, very good.”
“Oh God, Lane,” said Finn with a loving look. He stepped forward and with his right hand behind my head, he pulled me toward him. My arms went around him, his arms fully embracing me and we kissed, moving into each other, finally together, at last. All those confusing feelings of wondering if I’d been misled or duped by Finn slipped away as I realized them for the lies they were. The loneliness and anger had deceived me, not Finn. And once I realized what was going on, what the choice truly was, I knew I loved him and that he loved me.
I never wanted to stop kissing him. That is, until I heard Father MacQueen start to whoop and holler in great appreciation. Benson, Fred, and Jasper all joined in the cheering.
I looked up at Finn’s almost bearded face; his dark jawline, his gray green eyes, and those crinkles in the corners that I loved so much. I stroked his jaw.
“I missed you, Finn. So much.”
Then I heard the sirens come closer with loud horns honking. Several cars and police cars came barreling down Main Street, coming to a screeching halt beside us. I half-expected Fiorello to jump out, but instead my eyes blinked hard trying to decide if what I was seeing was possible. The lead sedan had Mr. Kirkland in the passenger seat and driving the car was a disheveled, crazed lady. She jumped out of the car and ran toward us.
“Aunt Evelyn?” I shouted, barely recognizing her in her manic state. She rammed right into me, whooshing the air out of me as she embraced me with all her considerable might. Then she started to ruthlessly pat me down, presumably looking for bullet holes.
“Cut it out!” I yelled with a smile. “We’re okay. Really, Aunt Evelyn. Stop,” I said, using my soothing tones to calm this savage beast. I put my hands on either side of her shoulders, making her pause, and looked into her fierce, flinty eyes and smiled. “Really,” I whispered earnestly.
“Really?” she squeaked. “My God, I’ve never been so worried in my life!”
By then Mr. Kirkland had made a wobbly journey over to us. He was muttering to no one in particular, “She wouldn’t let me drive, grabbed the wheel and took off . . . had to jump in . . . she . . . she . . . went through about fifty lights . . . almost took out an old lady . . . more scared than when I was in the war . . .”
Benson, taking in the situation with perfect acumen, ran into his shop and came out with a couple of glasses and the bottle of scotch I had brought him. Finn chuckled as Mr. Kirkland skipped the whole glass idea, blindly grasping the bottle, and took a great gulp of the fiery liquid. Benson laughed, but Fred wasn’t pleased.
I winked at Fred and mouthed the words I’ll get you another one.
CHAPTER 34
Well, everything was such a mess, we decided to get everyone back to my house to get organized. Finn and I were never apart. He always had his arm around me, we were holding hands, or just pressed up against each other.
I quickly talked with Father MacQueen and between the two of us we made a plan to get the grocery store to deliver a bunch of food and drinks to the house, then the local butcher was to bring over a large selection of deli meats and cheeses. We had a lot of explaining to do, so we also invited the confused sheriff and his crew that had arrived directly after Evelyn and Kirkland.
We held a debriefing that didn’t include all the juicy details, but the ones that the police were most interested in. I think the sheriff knew there was more to the story, but being a man of simplicity, he was just fine with knowing a vague outline. What mattered to him was the bad guys who got away. He put out an APB on them for disturbing the peace, attempted kidnapping, and several other grievances he thought up.
After a lot of eating, pats on the backs, and some general partying, our new friends took their leave. I promised to come around to the barber shop and the church the next day. And I did remember to give Fred, Benson, and Jasper each a special bottle of scotch from my father’s lavish collection. I brought one up for Mr. Kirkland and Father MacQueen, too.
Later that evening, Aunt Evelyn, Mr. Kirkland, and Finn and I sat around the fire, enjoying the warm ambiance and being together once again. I was sitting close to Finn on the couch, his arm around my shoulders and my hand on that side in his, my head resting on his shoulder. I hadn’t known this sort of peace in quite a while. It felt so good. I was finally home. I kept taking deep breaths, taking it all in. Relishing it, loving every sensation of warmth, co
mpletion, and happiness. Loving my family around me.
Mr. Kirkland leaned over, resting his elbows on his knees. “Now that we’re alone, I think we have a lot to discuss,” he said in his gravelly voice.
“How did you get here so fast?” I exclaimed, still in disbelief and still very much amused at the crazy lady: my aunt Evelyn.
That crazy lady said, “Hah! That’s what you want to discuss? With all this insanity, that’s what comes to your mind first?” She guffawed and slapped Mr. Kirkland’s knee. I didn’t think it was that funny.
Mr. Kirkland took the reins. “Well, Lane, the day before yesterday we received a disturbing telegram from Finn that he was on his way back as quickly as possible, and that we needed to get to Michigan as soon as we could.” He raised his eyebrows at Finn, acknowledging him. “We raced here and got to Detroit just this morning. We decided to go to our hotel front desk, even though we hadn’t checked in yet, just to see if there were any messages—”
“And you got my telegram from this morning, saying that I was concerned and to come here immediately,” I cut in.
“Exactly.” Then Mr. Kirkland gave Evelyn a rather shifty glance, obviously remembering their outrageous and scary-as-hell ride from Detroit to Rochester. I daresay he figured it took a few years off his life.
I could feel Finn’s silent chuckle as he’d been reading Mr. Kirkland’s face, too. Mr. Kirkland asked Finn, “Say, Finn. How did you get here from Europe so fast? The Queen Mary takes five days to New York.”
Finn’s eyes sparked with mischief and he grinned when he said, “Oh, my military buddies helped me out.”
I’d have to ask him more about that later, but for now, I decided to go get a bottle of white wine and some glasses. I also grabbed a little box of chocolates from Sanders. Wine and chocolate. Just seemed right. The firelight made the light yellow-green wine gleam and shine. We all clinked glasses, and then between Finn and me, we explained what had been going on. Well, most of it.
“Well,” I continued, “I knew things were coming to a head. I had no idea what was going on, but just in case you arrived early, or if something happened . . . I wanted you to know that things were looking dicey. So, I sent two telegrams to you, one to you in New York and one to your hotel just in case.”
Finn told us about his new contact and obvious friend, Miles. That he had been the one to shine light on Rex’s fondness for architecture and self-aggrandizing embellishments on public property. And of course, what the gold pawns meant when Rex would use them. Lastly, he told us about the photograph of Rex’s grandchildren. That’s when it all clicked for Finn, that Rutherford was Rex’s son, which meant Eliza was his grandchild. And in the photograph, right next to Eliza had been her brother. Tucker.
“But I didn’t know that you even knew what Tucker looked like,” I said, perplexed.
Finn grinned mischievously. “Roarke and I had a funny . . . feeling about him. We staked him out right before I left for Europe.”
I smacked him on the chest. “You did not!” I said with a smirk.
“Oh, you better believe I did.”
“I like it,” I said approvingly.
Finn went on to say that at that very moment, he received my telegram that things were difficult in Michigan and that Tucker was with me. He left immediately and raced to Rochester, having sent a telegram to Evelyn and Kirkland as well.
I then filled in everyone on my findings here. “You know, Mr. Kirkland, I found my dad’s game room.”
“Hah!” He turned abruptly to Evelyn and said, “You owe me five bucks!” She just rolled her eyes. “She didn’t believe me when I said you would find the room. I knew you would.”
I laughed and then added slyly, “But did you think I would find his second secret room?”
“Secret . . . what?” he asked with disbelief. So satisfying.
“Uh huh. His booze room. And his safe.”
“Holy—”
“We’ll go exploring later. But this is the deal: Dad left me a letter, my birth certificate, and this.” I held out the gold pawn piece in my palm, the light from the fire giving it a glowing life all its own. I handed it to Finn to scrutinize, mesmerized by his fingers gently touching the gold piece and stroking it.
I went on, “The letter said a few cryptic things, I’ll give it to you to read yourselves. But the gist is that it led me to look at that photograph of my mother in my journal, the one in front of the Central Park casino in New York. The note had said to remember what they’d pointed out to me. When I took a closer look, her hand was pointing to the right and, sure enough, that picture had been folded. I took it out of the corner tabs, opened it up, and next to her was a picture of a man I had never seen before. I took it to my barbershop friends and they recognized him: Rutherford Franco. Father of Eliza and Tucker. Of course, at that moment I hadn’t realized Tucker was actually his son, Tom, yet. It was right on Main Street today that everything slipped into place. There had been something familiar about a few of Tucker’s gestures the past couple of days.” I went on and explained everything that happened, including the attacks from Tucker’s cohorts. Everything had been so confusing until put together the right way. “Suddenly, everything came together.”
“Wait a minute, you were attacked by gunmen yesterday, too?” blurted out Finn.
Mr. Kirkland murmured something indescribable.
I replied, “Tucker must have set it up. They didn’t hurt us, just put us into a sticky situation. They were the same guys who were with him today.” I didn’t bother to mention they were also the same guys from the restaurant earlier in the week. “I don’t get it. He set it all up . . . but why? If he wanted the gun or the pawns, if he thought I had them, why not just barge in here and try to steal them?”
Finn murmured, “I know why . . .”
Aunt Evelyn’s eyebrow cocked cynically, “Mm hmm . . . First of all, he probably knew they’d be hidden in a place only you could locate. Secondly, Lane, he’s been targeting you all along. A while ago, you went on a couple of dates with him, right?”
“Yes, before Finn and I were together. But it was never anything serious.”
Finn and Mr. Kirkland shared an all-knowing expression, evoking in me the desire to kick them in the shins.
“What?” I asked accusingly.
Aunt Evelyn continued, “Lane, dear, you obviously hold the key to something that he wants or needs, and it’s probably the gold pawn. They must know that your father killed Rex and he always had one on his person, so it’s likely they took it. But there’s something else there, too. From what I gathered when I met him, I think you’re . . . important to him, Lane.”
“What?” I choked out. “You met him?” Finn and Mr. Kirkland looked at her in astonishment.
“I caught him on his lunch hour one day, had to see him for myself. Let’s just say I had a funny feeling about him too,” she said provocatively.
“Pour me another glass of wine, Lane,” Mr. Kirkland directed. I did and I handed him two chocolates.
“And getting back to Rutherford . . .” said Finn, deciding we’d taken this part of the conversation far enough. “Okay. Let me summarize this mess. The original Rex Ruby started the Red Scroll Network to pillage artwork and national treasures through war-torn Europe during the war. He had a son, Rutherford Franco. Miles says that Rex was never inclined to appreciate his son. I believe that Rutherford didn’t share his violent nature as much as Rex desired. Rutherford had two children with Daphne: Eliza and Tucker.
“Somewhere along the line, Rex starts to induct his grandson, Tucker, into the family business, probably seeing his proclivity for charm and deception. But even before then, Miles told me that there were rumors of Rex finding an apprentice of sorts, after the great disappointment of his son. We’ll talk about that in a minute. We know that Lane’s father and Mr. Kirkland killed Rex Ruby, beyond a doubt. When was that, Mr. Kirkland?”
“About two months before Matthew and Charlotte were killed. We got
word that Rex was hunting us down. An informant of Matthew’s revealed to us Rex’s general whereabouts and since taking him out had always been part of our mission, and now with the added incentive that the family was in danger . . . Matthew and I went to Ireland, located him, and finished it. He had two gold pawns in his hand when we killed him. At the time, we didn’t know what they represented so we each took one.” Our eyes were glued to him, he looked impassive and his eyes held a red and determined fire. Finn filled us in on what Miles had explained to him about those pawns being Rex’s calling card.
“All right,” continued Finn. “So now Rex is out of the picture. But we are left with many unanswered questions. If Rex did select an apprentice, in addition to Eliza and Tucker, who then? If Rex was taken out, then who is responsible for Matthew’s and Charlotte’s deaths, not to mention Rutherford’s? And how did Rutherford end up in the same exact town as Matthew and Charlotte and what was their relationship?”
“Hey!” I exclaimed, with sudden inspiration. “I’ve got it. There are three of those larger pawns on the center railing of the bridge in Central Park that don’t have the X on them, right? Ten altogether, seven with an X, and that seventh one is marked with the date of my parents’ deaths.”
“Yes . . .” they all murmured, tracking with me.
“Those pawns must represent the Red Scroll Network members, at least the leaders. You said that you took out six members, Mr. Kirkland. That seventh one must have represented Rutherford—he died the same day as my parents. He was special because he was Rex’s son, thus earning the date marked on it. The three remaining ones have to represent Eliza, Tucker, and perhaps that rumored apprentice.”
“Oh no,” said Aunt Evelyn, with a look of incredulity.
“What?” I said.
“That apprentice. Who is the only other key player who keeps popping up, who has been working against us and working with Eliza . . .” she prodded.
Finn finished the thought. “Donagan Connell.”
The Gold Pawn Page 20
