Last Call

by Allyson K. Abbott

  “Mal, your family is leaving tomorrow. They really want to see you before they go. Why don’t you come back with us tonight and stay at the bar? It’s plenty safe, and your family is staying in my apartment, so you’ll be able to spend some time with them. You can have your basement bed back if you want. I can stay at Duncan’s.”

  Mal considered the offer and looked at Duncan. “What do you think?” he asked.

  Duncan shrugged. “I was going to suggest the same thing myself. I just hadn’t gotten around to it yet. You could show up around closing time so no one sees you.”

  Mal considered the offer for a few seconds and then said, “I’d really like to see them, too. And it will be easier to coordinate things in the morning that way. Let’s do it.”

  With that resolved, we helped Mal clean up the remnants of our meal and then said our good-byes. It felt good knowing it would be a short-lived one this time.

  On the ride back to the bar, Duncan was silent, and that worried me. “I hope it’s okay I invited myself to spend another night at your place,” I said, wondering if that was what had him so introspective.

  “Of course,” he said.

  “You seem awfully quiet. Is something wrong?”

  “I’m just worried about Mal participating in this thing in the morning. He looks better, but I know he isn’t one hundred percent yet, and I don’t want to push him too hard.”

  “He’ll be okay. Tiny is going to be doing most of the heavy lifting anyway. Mal’s role will be a simple one.”

  “Simple but necessary,” Duncan said. “I’d do it myself, but it’s his case, and for the sake of the solidity of future search warrants and any potential prosecution, it’s better if he does it. But if something goes wrong, Mal could end up getting hurt more.”

  “What do you think might go wrong?”

  “If our little distraction plan doesn’t work, the whole thing will be for naught. And even if it does work, Mal might not have enough time.”

  “If that happens—and I think it’s a big if—we’ll think of something else,” I said, and Duncan frowned at me. “What?”

  “We’ll think of something else?” he echoed. “You sound like you think you’re coming along.”

  “Of course I am.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “Oh yes I am.”

  “This is serious stuff, Mack,” he said.

  “I know that. I’m not treating it like some frivolous outing. And I’m part of the team now, remember?”

  “Not for this.”

  I stared at him, one eyebrow arched. “I can take care of myself,” I insisted.

  “It’s not that,” Duncan said. Then he sighed. “I just don’t like the idea of putting you in danger.” He paused, his lips pinched into a thin line. “I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you.”

  His voice choked up on this last statement, and I felt my heart nearly burst. I didn’t think I could be any happier at that moment. But then Duncan proved me wrong.

  “You know I love you, Mack, right?”

  “You do?”

  “I do.”

  I smiled at him. “Well, I happen to think you’re a pretty swell guy, too.”

  He shot me a horrified look, and I burst out laughing. “Relax, you ninny,” I said when I had my laughter under control. “I’ve been in love with you for months. I thought it was obvious.”

  “Well, I wasn’t sure, what with all this stuff with Mal, and that business with my ex.”

  His ex, Courtney Metcalfe, was a wealthy socialite and the daughter of a Chicago tycoon, who had left Duncan standing at the altar. His history with her was one of the reasons I hadn’t felt comfortable around wealthy people. Well, that, and the fact that another wealthy woman had been behind the letter-writer campaign. I’d recently discovered Courtney was not only living in Milwaukee—a fact Duncan hadn’t shared with me—but that she was making overtures to win him back.

  “Look,” Duncan went on, “I know I haven’t been around as much as you would like. And I’ve seen the way you act and look around Mal. You really care for him.”

  “I do care for Mal,” I said. “And I’ll admit I wouldn’t mind seeing more of you. But my feelings for Mal are more brotherly in nature. And I suspect I’ll be spending a lot more time with you in this new role I have. I’m basically your sidekick now.”

  His face relaxed, and I saw a hint of a smile on it. “I like the sound of that,” he said. “In fact, I think maybe we should consider making you a permanent sidekick. Would you consider marrying me?”

  I was flabbergasted. “M-m-marry you?” I stammered.

  “Too soon?” he said, wincing.

  “Maybe a little,” I said. How had things gone from hoping for the commitment of an invite to spend the night at his place to a marriage proposal already? Zero to sixty with lightning speed. “We’ve only known each other for a few months, Duncan. And when you get right down to it, we don’t really know each other at all.”

  “I know plenty about you,” he insisted.

  “Okay, then I don’t know all that much about you. I mean I only just discovered this whole business with your ex a few weeks ago. And then there’s the matter of living situations. I can’t give up my bar and my apartment and you have a house.”

  “The house is technically my parents’,” he said. “They own it. I just live in it rent free in exchange for maintaining it and doing some fix-ups. I’d be fine with us living at your place.”

  I recalled him telling me this information about his house back when we first met. So I scratched that objection off my list. “I need a little time to think about it, Duncan,” I said. “Would that be okay?”

  “Of course.” He tried to sound dismissive, but I could hear, and taste, the hurt in his voice. I felt bad I was the cause of his pain. Why was I feeling so hesitant? I did love him; that much I knew. And I’d been bemoaning the lack of apparent commitment on his part for the past several weeks. Well, I had my wish. This was the ultimate commitment. So what was holding me back?

  I decided it was time to have a serious, heart-to-heart talk with myself. And maybe with Cora and the Signoriello brothers, too. And maybe, just maybe, I needed to have a chat with my father, as well. Yeah, talking with a ghost. That should clear things up just fine.

  Chapter 25

  When we got back to the bar, we made the final arrangements for our morning rendezvous with Klein and the building site. Our plan required the assistance of Clay as well as the others, so we read him in on the plan and asked for his help. No surprise, he was eager to participate, particularly when we promised him an exclusive on the story.

  I took some time to grab a change of clothes and put some clean sheets on Mal’s basement bed, and then worked at getting things ready for closing. I sent my staff home right at two, and Duncan helped me whip through the closing duties. The O’Reillys were majorly excited when we informed them of the plan to have Mal spend the night at the bar, and he showed up right on time, just after closing, parking some distance from the bar and coming in through the back-alley entrance so he wouldn’t be seen.

  It was fun to watch the O’Reillys come together again. The obvious affection and warmth they shared made me long for a big family for the first time ever. I’d been content all my life with just Dad and me, and some of our regular bar patrons often made it seem like we had a larger extended family. But after watching the interactions between the O’Reilly clan, I felt like I might have missed out on something all those years.

  Duncan and I left for the night a little after two-thirty, and I told the O’Reillys they had free run of the bar. Predictably, Patrick and Ryan whooped over this, while their sister shook her head in mock disdain.

  Duncan kept giving me these sad, little hangdog looks throughout the night, and it only made my remorse worse. Things felt a tad awkward at his place, but we were so exhausted, we both fell asleep with ease.

  The following day dawned gray and cloudy, and I co
uld smell snow in the air. Duncan was up before me—already showered, shaved, and dressed for the day by the time I woke up at eight. We were supposed to meet up with the others at the bar at nine, so I hurried through my morning ablutions, which left little time for Duncan and me to talk. This was probably just as well, because I didn’t yet know what to say to him.

  Our ride to the bar was a silent one, but it didn’t feel uncomfortable. Duncan rested one hand on mine throughout the drive, and that reassured me that his tension was due more to the upcoming operation than anything between the two of us.

  The O’Reillys were all up and sharing breakfast in the bar when we arrived.

  “Good morning, Mack!” Connor greeted me.

  “Good morning!”

  “Can we fix you something to eat as a way of saying thanks for turning your home and your bar over to us?” Colleen said.

  “Thanks, but Duncan and I already ate, and besides, I promised you guys a breakfast today.” I realized as soon as I said this that Duncan might have liked to take Colleen up on her offer. All we’d had to eat was a couple of toaster tarts.

  “Thanks,” Connor said, “but we’ve already helped ourselves. Hope that’s okay.”

  “Of course,” I assured him, and then I went behind the bar to get a cup of coffee. Duncan followed me, and Mal got up from the O’Reilly table and walked over to us.

  “Thanks for this,” he said, gesturing toward his family. The change in the way he looked only served to prove to me how important the love and company of his family was to him. There was color in his cheeks where there hadn’t been any before, and a spark in his eye I hadn’t seen in a while.

  “I’m the one who needs to thank you,” I said. “I still can’t believe your family came here and installed my elevator for me. And you did the bulk of the planning and design work. It’s worth every penny and then some. In fact, I intend to give you and your family a little bonus.”

  “That’s not necessary,” Mal said. “You gave them free food, drink, and lately, housing, so I think we’re good.”

  I let the argument go because I knew Mal wouldn’t change his mind, but I intended to provide the bonus nonetheless.

  After one last round of good-byes, the O’Reillys climbed into their rental vehicle and headed for the airport. I missed them a surprising amount as soon as they left and could only imagine how Mal felt.

  Cora and Clay both arrived at the bar a short while later, and the five of us sat down and once again went over the plan, synchronizing our watches and reviewing the timing. Tiny, whose role was crucial, was already at work, anticipating our arrival. Once we were sure everything was planned down to the last detail, we headed out in Duncan’s car.

  Duncan parked some distance away from the site and the mobile office trailer. Then we split up, Clay heading for the work site, Cora, Duncan, Mal, and me quietly heading for the back of the mobile office. From there, we positioned ourselves among the parked cars and trucks in the lot, crouching down so we wouldn’t be seen. Mal, Duncan, and I went alongside the pickup truck with a topper on the bed that was parked closest to the trailer. Cora crouched beside a car next to us.

  A few minutes past the prescribed hour, we saw Tiny hurrying toward the trailer. He mounted the two stairs outside and knocked on the door. When Klein answered, Tiny stepped into the doorway and started talking. We were close enough to hear what he said.

  “Mr. Klein, you best come to da site right away. Dere is some reporter dere who says he’s here to investigate a story he’s working on about how our work is dangerous and not up to da code. He says dere is a camera crew arriving any minute.”

  I heard Klein mutter some expletives, and a moment later, he came out of the trailer, letting the door bang closed behind him. We watched them cross over to the work site, and as soon as they were out of the way, Mal stepped out from our hiding place and headed for the trailer door, camera in hand. I held my breath as he mounted the steps and pulled on the handle, knowing that if Tiny had failed at his part of the job, the whole thing would end right there. Tiny’s job had been to place a cork, which I had provided and Duncan had measured and cut, into the slot where the door latch normally went, preventing the door from latching. Duncan had applied some double-sided tape to one end of the cork so it would, hopefully, stick in place.

  There were a dozen things that could go wrong, including the cork not sticking and falling, Tiny fumbling it, or Klein checking the door before leaving to make sure it was locked. We had rehearsed the moves Tiny should make dozens of times last night, practicing on the door to my basement. He made the moves over and over again until he not only became adept at placing the cork but at positioning himself so Klein would have to slide past him, and then being in a spot where he could prevent the door from bouncing back open again, something that would have made it apparent it hadn’t locked.

  The door opened, Mal disappeared inside, and I was able to breathe again.

  Off in the distance, we heard the muted voices of the others: Klein, Clay, and some of the workers. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but the voices were raised and the tones sounded heated.

  Minutes ticked by as the rest of us stayed in our hiding spots and waited. I imagined in my mind what Mal was doing inside: opening the drawer where the books were kept, taking them out, opening them, and photographing the pages. There were so many possible complications, and I kept running through them in my head. Was the drawer locked? This possibility had been discussed, and Mal was carrying a device that would, hopefully, unlock it. How many pages were there? How long would it take? Would Clay and Tiny be able to keep Klein occupied and away long enough?

  I glanced at my watch and saw that just over eight minutes had passed. Why was Mal taking so long? I knew Duncan was as worried as I was because I could hear his heart pounding inside his chest. We exchanged a nervous look but said nothing.

  Then our worst fear came true. We heard voices approaching, and raised up enough to peek through the side windows of the truck. A red-faced Klein was storming toward his office, Clay and Tiny running behind him, yelling questions at him. “Crap,” Duncan muttered. He looked over at Cora, who was watching through the windows of the car she was hiding behind, and pointed toward the men.

  Cora needed no further prompting. She popped up and quickly strode toward the group of men, yelling, “There you are, you cheating bastard. I’ve been looking all over for you.” She strode up to Klein in a few quick steps and poked a finger in his chest, stopping him. “I need you to tell me right now if he”—she pointed at Tiny with her free hand—“was really working here yesterday, or if he’s been seeing that slut on the side again.” She then grabbed Klein’s arm and spun him around. “Look at him,” she yelled. “That’s the face of a cheater! And you’re covering for him, aren’t you? You men, you’re all alike. Sticking up for one another so you can stick it wherever you want. Well, I’m here to tell you right now, that’s going to stop.”

  Cora went on with her tirade, yelling inches away from Klein’s face. Klein stood there looking dumbfounded, alternately staring at the crazy woman who was all up in his business and the two men who had stopped several feet away. Duncan darted out of our hiding place, ran up to the door of the office, and rapped three times quickly. Two seconds later, the door opened and Mal stepped out. He clambered down the stairs, and Duncan led him back to the truck that was our shield.

  “That was close!” I whispered once we were all crouched down again. “Did you get what you need?”

  Mal nodded, then his face took on a horror-stricken expression. “Oh hell,” he muttered. “I forgot to grab the cork.”

  Duncan let out a perturbed sigh and ran a hand through his hair. I squeezed my eyes closed, my heart pounding in my chest. I raised up again to peek at Klein and Cora, and saw Klein shake his head and turn away from Cora, once again heading for his office. This was bad, and I thought fast, trying to decide what to do.

  Cora came after Klein and grabbed his s
leeve, halting him for the moment. But I knew it wouldn’t last for long. She continued her ranting diatribe, having succeeded in turning Klein enough to give me a chance. I took it.

  I stood and scrambled out of the hiding place, shaking off Duncan’s grab on my arm. I heard him hiss my name, but ignored him and scooted around behind the trailer. I took a second or two to gather my wits and then proceeded to walk back around to the front of the trailer. As I had feared, Klein had once again shaken Cora off, and he was continuing toward his office. I walked over to the base of the stairs and stood there, staring at him. When he saw me, he hesitated for just a second, rolled his eyes, and then continued coming for me.

  “Good day, Mr. Klein,” I said. “I need to speak with you again regarding the matter we discussed the other day.” I looked past him toward the still-shrieking Cora. “Unless you’re otherwise occupied, that is,” I added with a wide-eyed look.

  “I’ve got nothing more to say to you,” he grumbled. He tried to step past me and climb the stairs, but I sidestepped up them, positioning myself by the door.

  “I think you want to hear me out,” I said, putting my hand up on the door just above the lock and leaning against it. “I happen to think you’re innocent, and I have a way to help you. But you’re going to have to hear me out.”

  Klein rolled his eyes again, removed his keys from his pocket, and reached past me to insert one in the lock. He drove it home and turned it, giving me an annoyed look. “I suggest you move out of my way,” he said.

  I leaned back just enough to allow him to grab the door and open it. Then I feigned losing my balance, acting as if I was about to fall backward off the side of the steps. To stop myself, I grabbed the door’s threshold, right where the strike plate was located. To his credit, Klein made a grab for me.

  “Thanks,” I said, breathing a fake sigh of relief. “Shall we?” I swung my free arm toward the inside of his office.

  “Ms. Duncan, I don’t—”

  “It’s Dalton. Mack Dalton. The detective’s name was Duncan, Duncan Albright.”