Mack's Witness

by Myla Jackson

  Wyatt turned to Mack who handed him a smaller wedding band. He took the ring and slid it onto Fiona’s finger. “I can’t promise that I will always be at your side, but I can promise that you will always be in my heart. No matter where I go, I promise that my love and commitment to you will remain strong. I will respect, encourage and cherish you for all the days of my life. I love you.”

  The priest pronounced them husband and wife.

  Wyatt swept Fiona up in his arms and kissed her long and passionately. When the couple came up for air, the love shining from their eyes could not be denied. A cheer rose into the rafters and tears trickled down Deirdre’s cheeks.

  She handed Fiona her bouquet of white lilies and the couple swept down the aisle to the exit.

  Deirdre laid her hand on Mack’s arm and followed Fiona and Wyatt down the aisle. She and Abby broke off to gather everything from the antechamber then hurried out of the church. Cars were lined up ready to whisk them off to the hotel where the reception was to take place in the same ballroom the Travelers’ wedding had taken place in the night before.

  The room had been transformed into an elegant display of cloth-covered tables with candles glowing as centerpieces. A long table on a raised dais was where the couple would be sitting. Deirdre ditched their clothing and purses behind that table and joined the crowd gathered around the happy couple.

  Wyatt stood beside Fiona at the entrance, smiling down at her as one after another guests arrived and congratulated them. As the guests arrived, champagne was handed around by hotel staff members.

  When everyone had a glass, Mack stepped forward. “A toast to my brother and his new wife. May all your joys be pure joy and all your pain be champagne. I love you, brother, and wish you all the happiness you both deserve.”

  Deirdre lifted her glass with the crowd and shouted, “Here! Here!”

  More toasts were offered and finally the band in the corner struck up a waltz. Fiona and Wyatt stepped onto the dance floor and performed their first dance as a married couple. Then Wyatt’s father asked to dance with Fiona, while his mother danced with Wyatt.

  Once their dances were over, Mack headed across the floor, making a beeline for Deirdre.

  Her heart thundered against her ribs and she nearly passed out before she realized she was holding her breath.

  When Mack was only three steps away from her, one of the hotel managers intervened, catching his arm.

  Mack continued to stare across at Deirdre until the man said something that made him transfer his gaze to the staff member. His brows angled together into a deep glaring V. “What?” he said, loud enough Deirdre could hear him. He shot another glance in Deirdre’s direction and then spun on his heels and followed the staff member from the ballroom.

  Deirdre hurried after them. In the lobby, several uniformed members of the Garda were huddled with the hotel manager and staff.

  “When did it happen?” Mack was asking.

  The Garda officer he was speaking to responded, “The coroner estimates some time in the middle of the night.”

  Deirdre stepped up to the officer. “What’s going on?”

  The hotel manager shot a look around and then spoke quietly. “There’s been a murder.”

  Mack hooked Deirdre’s arm as her knees buckled.

  “A murder?” She shook her head. “What does that have to do with Mack?”

  The officer in charge turned to her. “It occurred in the room adjacent to his. We brought him out of the celebration to ask if he’d heard or seen anything last night that would indicate who might have killed the occupant of the room.”

  Another Garda member’s face lit up. “You’re Deirdre Darcy, aren’t you?”

  Deirdre nodded.

  The man stepped forward. “Wait ’til I tell me wife. She’ll be right jealous when she gets wind of me meetin’ you and all.”

  Mack lifted a hand to keep the man from getting too close.

  It didn’t faze the man. “My wife collects all yer magazine ads. I loved ya in the makeup commercial. That bikini was—”

  His boss stepped in. “Save it for the pub, Cavan. We have an investigation to conduct.”

  Deirdre leaned against Mack.

  Mack slid an arm around Deirdre’s waist and held her up as she seemed about to fall. He didn’t like how pale she’d become.

  “Sir, can you tell me where you were between midnight and four o’clock in the morning?”

  “I was in my room.” Mack frowned. “Why?”

  “You were the closest to the deceased. We have to ask.”

  “Is he being accused of the murder?” Deirdre demanded.

  “No, but being as close as he was, he’s a person of interest.”

  Her back stiffened and she stepped forward. “I can verify he was in his room for the entire time.”

  “How could you, unless you were with—” The detective’s face flushed scarlet.

  “Were ya with Miss Darcy?” the detective named Cavan asked, his eyes widening. “I’d give me left nut to be with her. No offense to me wife. I wouldn’t cheat on her for just any woman.”

  “Shut up, Cavan. Better yet, go sit in the vehicle.”

  “But—” Cavan glanced from Deirdre to Mack and back to Deirdre. “I really do have the utmost respect for you, Miss Darcy.”

  “Go.” The detective pointed to the exit.

  Cavan’s shoulders drooped as he slumped toward the exit. “Wait’ll the boys at O’Brien’s hear about this.”

  As Cavan was leaving the hotel, a female television reporter slipped in with her cameraman.

  “Here we go.” Deirdre turned her face into Mack’s shirt.

  “Excuse me, I’m Siobhan Callahan from Channel 4 News. I understand there’s been a murder here at the hotel. Can you tell me more?” She held her microphone like a weapon, brandishing it in the face of the detective.

  “We’re investigating a death. Until we have more information, I cannot and will not comment,” the detective answered. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll just be goin’ about my duties.” He nodded toward Mack. “Sir, if you could follow me down to the station, I’ll be able to question you in private.”

  “Is this man a suspect?” Siobhan asked.

  The detective blocked the reporter’s access to Mack. “Ms. Callahan, in the course of my investigation, I will be interviewing witnesses, suspects and everyone on down to the person who cleans the loos. Please, just let me do my job.”

  “By all that’s holy, it’s Deirdre Darcy!” The reporter’s attention riveted on Deirdre. She yelled at the cameraman. “Are you getting this?” Then she stood beside Deirdre, facing the camera. “I’m at the Fitzpatrick Hotel in downtown Dublin. Beside me, in her bridesmaid gown, is the lovely Deirdre Darcy, being questioned about a murder that occurred in the very heart of our city. Miss Darcy, can you tell us what happened?”

  Mack put a hand over the camera lens. “Back off.”

  “Oh, and who might you be?” Siobhan asked.

  The camera man backed far enough away Mack couldn’t take a swing at him or his equipment, but he adjusted his lens, zooming in on the pair.

  “Not important.” He nodded to the lead detective. “Come with me.” He led the way through the lobby to the business room on the other side. Once he had Deirdre and two detectives through the door, he closed it in Siobhan’s face. Unfortunately, the room had glass walls and the cameraman could film all he wanted through the window.

  “Since Miss Darcy can swear you were in your room during the hours between midnight and four a.m., perhaps you can tell us if you heard or saw anyone or anything out of the ordinary during that time.”

  “I didn’t hear or see anything,” Mack said. He turned to Deirdre. “Did you?”

  Her heart hammered against her ribs as she recalled her encounter with the two dark-haired men in the hallway. “Detective.” Deirdre touched the man’s arm. “In which room did the murder occur?”

  “The one immediately to the so
uth of Mr. Magnus’s.”

  Deirdre clutched Mack’s hand, her face pale. “Sweet Jazus.”

  “What?” the detective leaned forward. “Did you see something?”

  She pressed her knuckles to her lips. “I might have seen the murderers.”

  Mack’s fists tightened. “When you left the room?”

  Deirdre stared into his eyes and nodded.

  He brushed his knuckles on the side of her cheek. “That’s why you were so frightened?”

  “Yes. I bumped into one of them while he was holding a mobile phone. He dropped it and glared at me. I didn’t know what he was so mad about. I dropped my purse and everything went everywhere.”

  “Did you break your phone?” Mack asked. “I tried to call you earlier, someone picked up but didn’t say anything.”

  “You did? I got a call right before Fiona walked down the aisle, but when I answered, all I heard was heavy breathing.” Deirdre’s brows wrinkled. “Was that you?”

  Mack shook his head. “Not me. I tried to call you a couple hours ago.”

  “I’d have been at the hair stylist with Fiona. My phone didn’t ring once. Maybe it is broken. Fiona said she tried to call me all morning and I’d answer and then hang up. I never heard the calls. How could I have answered?”

  “Unless you weren’t the one answering.” Mack’s hands closed around hers. “Where is your phone now?”

  “In my purse, behind the table on the dais.” She turned toward the door. “I’ll go get it if you want.”

  “No. You need to stay here,” he said sharply. Then in a softer tone added, “I’d rather not disturb the wedding party any more than we have to. What does it look like?”

  Deirdre gave him the description and approximately where she’d dropped it.

  “Is it okay if I leave?” Mack asked.

  The lead detective nodded. “Detective Doyle will escort you to the ballroom and wait for you while you gather Miss Darcy’s purse. I advise you not to run.”

  Mack raised his hands as if in surrender. “I have nothing to hide. I didn’t murder the occupant of the room beside mine.”

  “So ya say.” Detective McLaughlin nodded to Doyle. “See to it.”

  Mack left the business room with Doyle in tow. He hated leaving Deirdre alone or even with the detective any longer than a moment. Especially if what he was thinking was true.

  Once inside the ballroom, he avoided his brothers, slipping around the outer walls to the table at the dais. Unfortunately, his brother Sam was seated at the table, twirling a shot glass in his hand. “Hey, Mack. Where have you been?”

  “Out in the lobby.”

  “But the party’s in here. Oh wait, you’re probably having your own party with the pretty model.” He raised his glass. “Good for you. Ask her if she has a sister.”

  “I will.” Mack ducked beneath the table, located the pile of clothes and purses beneath and sifted through until he found the one meeting Deirdre’s description. When he rose from beneath the table, he held the purse at his side.

  Sam grinned. “Nice purse.”

  “It’s Deirdre’s. She asked me to get it for her.” When Mack started around Sam, his brother’s hand snaked out to capture his arm. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  Sam shook his head. “I know when my big brother has a problem. Is it the girl?”

  “No.”

  “Then why the heavy frown? You should be happy for Wyatt.”

  “I am. I just need to go.” He shook off his brother’s hand and hurried past him, praying he wouldn’t follow and ask more questions. The fewer guests who knew about the murder, the better. At least until the wedding party had officially ended. If he had it his way, he’d send his brother Wyatt and his new bride off on their honeymoon before they got wind of what had happened.

  The detective was waiting for him outside the ballroom. They were halfway across the lobby when he heard Sam call out behind him. “Mack, wait!”

  Mack stopped and turned.

  Sam was hurrying toward him, Ronin at his side.

  “Go back to the party,” Mack insisted. “I don’t want Mom and Dad to get upset.”

  Ronin crossed his arms. “Not until we know what’s going on.”

  Before Mack could tell him to mind his own business, the detective beside him spoke up. “There’s been a murder.”

  “Fuck,” Mack muttered. His hopes of keeping the situation on the down-low had just been blown out the door.

  “My brother wouldn’t have killed anyone who didn’t deserve it,” Sam asserted.

  “Thanks, Sam. I’m sure that statement will get me off the hook. Come on. You might as well hear what the detectives have to say.”

  “Are they accusing you?” Ronin hustled to keep up with Mack.

  “Not yet. I had an alibi.” He gave them a brief rundown of where and when the murder occurred as they reached the door to the business room and entered. He held Deirdre’s purse out to her. “Show us your phone.”

  She dug in her purse and pulled out the cell phone, her brows furrowed. “Why are you interested in my mobile phone?”

  “Look closer. Are you sure it’s yours?” Mack asked.

  Deirdre stared down at it, her frown deepening. She ran her finger across the screen and it asked for the lock code. “That’s strange. I don’t remember putting a lock on my phone.”

  “Are you sure that’s your phone?”

  “I think so. It has a nick on the back from where I dropped—” She turned it over. “What the hell?” There was no nick on it.

  “When you dropped your purse and everything fell out, how close were you to where the man dropped his?”

  “Right beside him. He reached for his phone at the same time. I remember because he had tattoos on his wrists and knuckles.”

  “Deirdre, I think you got his phone and he got yours.” Mack grabbed a white handkerchief from his suit pocket, took the phone from Deirdre and handed it to the detective. “That cell phone might be key to your investigation. If the man she ran into last night is one of the murderers, you might be able to track him through that phone.”

  “As it is, Miss Darcy is our only witness to the man or men who committed the murder,” the detective said.

  Mack nodded, his jaw tightening. “That’s right.”

  Deirdre’s eyes widened. “Is that a problem?”

  “Only for you, sweetheart.” Mack stared into her eyes. “If you’re the only one who can identify them, they might consider you a threat.”

  She looked from the detective to Mack and back. “Do you think they’ll come after me?”

  The detective’s gaze shifted from Mack back to her, his lips thinning into a grim line. “Until we catch them, you’re not safe, Miss Darcy.”

  “What are you saying?” she demanded.

  The detective tucked the pad he’d been writing on into his pocket. “If they were willing to kill someone, they might be willing to kill you to keep you from identifying them in a line up.”

  Deirdre bit her lip. “What should I do?”

  “I suggest you hire a bodyguard, or I could arrange for a safe house, if you’d like.”

  “I can’t leave now.” Deirdre shook her head. “I have a public appearance on Monday here in Dublin. Then I’m supposed to be in Belfast on Tuesday for a talk show.”

  “It’s your life, Miss Darcy. But if I were you, I’d lay low for a few days and let us work through the evidence.”

  “And put my life on hold? Just because I bumped into a potential murderer in the hallway?” She glanced at Mack. “Tell them I can’t do that.”

  Mack sighed. “Sweetheart, you might have to, and it might be best to get out of Dublin until they find the murderers.”

  “Hiring a bodyguard takes time. I have no idea who to trust.” She buried her face in her hands. “This is insane.”

  “I have an idea.” Sam stepped forward. “I’m off for a week, I can be your bodyguard.”

  Mack
backhanded him in the chest. “Bullshit. Don’t you have a helicopter to fly somewhere?”

  “If not Sam, why not you?” Ronin offered, his lips curling upward. “You said you wanted to find a quiet place to hole up and get some R and R. This would give you the perfect opportunity to get out of the city and find a little B-and-B to relax in.”

  Mack had to admit the idea had been percolating in the back of his mind since the old Irish woman on the airplane had handed him her card. He sure as hell didn’t want Sam playing bodyguard to the beautiful model he’d slept with the night before.

  Deirdre’s face was pale, her hands trembling. When she bit on her full bottom lip, he couldn’t help himself and blurted, “What about it? Can you trust me to be your bodyguard for a few days?”

  Chapter Six

  Deirdre sat in the seat beside Mack, for the first time in long time without her mobile phone and out of touch with her agent. After she’d called to have him cancel all her engagements for the week, she’d packed her bag and departed the hotel with Mack.

  He’d left instructions with his brothers as to where they could find him and had turned off his cell phone altogether. The only time he’d use it was if they were in big trouble. Otherwise, he’d remain out of contact with them.

  Mack and Deirdre had reassured Wyatt and Fiona that they’d be all right, that they should go ahead with their honeymoon to Crete. The two had reluctantly left for the airport.

  Ronin and Sam would stay in Dublin for a couple extra days, keeping tabs on the investigation. If anything popped up, they’d get word to Mack by calling the B-and-B.

  Once they all had their marching orders, as Mack described it, she and Mack had slipped out of the hotel wearing disguises. They’d hopped on the metro, got off at a random stop, got on at another and rode toward the train station. At one point Deirdre thought she saw a burly man with dark hair get on the back of one of the metro cars, but there were so many people cramming into every available space she couldn’t be certain. When they disembarked she didn’t see the burly guy and wrote it off as an overactive imagination. Their final metro stop was at the train station where they bought tickets to Limerick. Once on the train, Mack remained alert, keeping an eye out for trouble. Deirdre relaxed against him and fell asleep.