FOUR
“You said ‘anywhere,’?” Peter said as he turned off the truck’s ignition. “Besides, Mom has been dying to see you.” I looked up at the Irish flag that jutted proudly out toward the river. It stood as Magh Meall’s sole sign, but that didn’t matter. The tavern’s honeyed dark-wheat microbrew and the small stage where local talent performed made Peter’s parents’ bar popular with both tourists and the local crowd. During the tourist season, the fire marshal himself would often pass out traveler cups to help ensure that the maximum-capacity law was being honored.
I was still in a mood over the whole Tucker bombshell, not to mention everything that had come before it. Compared to the rest of my morning, Peter’s association with Tucker was nothing more than a minor irritation. Tucker knew how to make money, and I was sure he wanted his private parts to remain exactly where they were. I wasn’t pleased, but it probably wouldn’t be a total disaster in the end. I felt my shoulders relaxing. “Fine,” I said. “But your mama had better not spend the entire visit talking to my stomach like she did last time.”
Peter was fool enough to laugh, but he thought better of it and held up his hands, palms facing forward. “I’m sorry,” he said, leaning in cautiously to kiss me. “I talked to her about that. She is just so thrilled about the baby.”
“Well, in about five months she can spend all day making baby talk to Colin, but until then . . .”
“Gotcha.” Peter hopped out of the truck and came around to open my door and help me down, an unnecessary but still appreciated gesture. He closed my door for me and took my arm.
“The only reason you’re being such a gentleman is because you’re afraid your mother is watching.”
“Damned straight,” he said, patting my arm as he led me to the tavern’s door. I laughed in spite of myself. I went up on my toes and kissed him.
No sooner had we stepped over the threshold than his mother descended upon us. “Mercy! My beautiful girl! It’s so good to see you.” She forced herself to look me directly in the eyes rather than immediately going for my midsection.
“Oh, go ahead,” I said, and she rushed forward and placed both hands over my stomach.
“And you too, my little Colin. Grandma loves you, little one.”
“Okay, Mom. That’s enough,” Peter said. His eyes glowed with happiness, and my heart leapt a little at the sight. I did love him. And I loved the child I was carrying.
“You take a seat,” she said to me. “And you take a hike,” she said, addressing Peter. “I need a little ‘girls only’ time with your intended here.”
Peter looked at me, the question about whether he should leave written across his face like a billboard. “It’s okay,” I said.
“You take it easy,” Peter said to his mom.
“Go on, get out of here,” she responded. Her tone was playful, but the command behind it was clear.
“I’ll be back in an hour,” he reassured me, and headed out the door.
Mrs. Tierney followed him, locking the door behind him. “Make sure we have a little privacy,” she said. “I’ll fetch us some tea.”
I didn’t really want tea, but I figured the cup would give me something to do with my hands. I dearly loved Peter’s mother. I had known her practically forever, but she still made me a bit nervous. She had very clear ideas about what was proper and what was improper, and she enforced those ideas with an iron fist. Maybe she had developed the trait from dealing with so many drunk patrons over the years, but I always found it a bit disconcerting. “Thank you,” I responded.
She returned in a few minutes with a pot of tea and two heavy mugs. The smell of mint turned my stomach a little, but I decided not to say anything. She too remained silent as she poured, but her eyes stayed fixed on me. She pushed a mug my way, and I clutched at it, grateful for the comfort of the warmth in my hands.
After a few moments, she took a sip and then placed her cup back on the table. “So, my girl. There have been many changes in your life recently.” Boy did she ever have that one right. I said nothing, just bobbed my head once in agreement. “Any word from your sister? How is she enjoying California?”
We had spun a fiction around my sister’s disappearance. According to the story, after breaking up with Jackson, Maisie had decided to see what life was like on the other coast. Even Peter didn’t know the truth. I reflected on the family confab that Iris, Ellen, Oliver, and I had held. We’d agreed to keep Peter innocent of the truth for his own protection. I wondered if they might have even conducted a similar meeting some twenty years ago, pledging to protect me from the truth that my mother was still alive. “She’s fine,” I responded. “Trying to decide whether she wants to settle near San Francisco or maybe down by Los Angeles.”
“Well, it’s a little odd that we finally get your uncle back from California only to turn around and lose your sister to the same state.”
“Savannah’s city charter only allows so many Taylors at a time,” I joked.
Her lips turned up in a near smile. “Well, you aren’t going to be a Taylor much longer, are you? You’re going to be one of us. A Tierney.”
I squirmed a little. Aunt Iris and Peter’s mom had been openly colluding to pressure me and Peter to marry. They wanted the baby to be born into a married family, but the thought of organizing a wedding on top of everything else was overwhelming. “Mrs. Tierney . . .” I started.
“You don’t have to call me Mrs. Tierney anymore. You’re a full-grown woman, not a twelve-year-old girl. You don’t have to call me ‘Mom,’ but I do wish you would call me by my given name.” My own mother’s face rose to mind as she said the word Mom. Would she be there for the birth of my son? I ached to see her again. I felt certain that if I could just convince her to come home and meet with my aunts, we’d be able to sort things out. Get to the bottom of whatever Ginny had done to trick or coerce them into going along with her twisted scheme.
I pushed the thoughts of my mother aside and focused on the current awkward moment. “All right, Claire,” I said, tentatively trying the name out. It felt odd, but I committed myself to it.
“There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“No, it’s just that I . . .”
“It’s just that you don’t want your future mother-in-law sticking her nose into your wedding plans. I get it. Don’t worry. I don’t care where you hold the wedding. I don’t care who officiates. I don’t care about the dress, the flowers, or the cake. I only care that it happens soon. Your pregnancy will start to show before long.”
“I don’t see why that should matter.”
“Well, for the photos,” she said, as if she were explaining the obvious. “It may not matter to you. It may not matter to Peter. But in a few years it may matter to little Colin.” I said nothing, but she read my reaction. “You do want to marry my son, don’t you?”
“Of course I do.” I hesitated. “But I feel a bit out of control of my own life right now. I wish I could slow things down. Take things more at my own pace.”
“Sorry, dear, but welcome to the world of being a parent. Your time no longer belongs to you. I won’t push you, though. At least for another week or two,” she said and winked at me.
I took a sip of my tea and then regretted it. The smell was what bothered me more than the taste. I fought a surge of nausea. Mrs. Tierney, Claire, reached out and pulled the cup away. “It’s all right. When I was pregnant I couldn’t abide cinnamon.” She took the cups and moved them over to the bar, returning to her seat with a much more serious look. “The baby. It’s healthy, right? Nothing unusual?”
“No, the doctor says everything looks really good,” I said in the most reassuring tone I could muster.
“I don’t care what the doctor thinks. What does Ellen have to say?”
I took her hand. “Ellen says the baby is fine. She swears that she can hear him singing.”
I thought this tidbit would entertain her, but her brow furrowed. “Takes after his father, he does,” she said. “Well, good. So tell me then,” she said, changing gears, “this tall fellow who has been staying with your family of late. The dark one who glowers all the time.”
“Emmet?” I asked, even though I knew full well that he was the only one who could possibly fit that description.
“Yes, Emmet. Is he a relative?”
“No,” I replied. “He’s more of a friend of the family.” I felt good about the level of honesty I could bring to that answer.
“So you’ve known him for a while then.”
“Only a few months, actually,” I said. “What about him?”
“It’s only that he’s been hanging around the tavern a lot lately. He spends his time nursing drinks and asking a lot of questions about our family—Colin, Peter, and me, that is. How did Colin and I meet? How long were we married when Peter was born?” She paused. “Are there any other oversized redheads in the family? That one almost earned him a sock in the eye.”
“He offended Colin?”
“No, he offended me. Even if he wasn’t implying anything by it, he still asked a whole lot more questions than a person might consider polite.”
“He’s a bit lacking in social skills, but he’s harmless.”
“I don’t care. I don’t like it, and I don’t like him.” Her eyes glowed with anger.
“I’ll talk to him about it, tell him—”
“No. I’m being silly,” she backtracked suddenly, waving a hand. “Don’t mention it to him.”
The door shook as someone tried the handle. “We’re closed. Come back at five,” she called out without budging from her chair. An insistent, authoritative knock sounded on the door.
Another knock came, this time much louder, and uniformed police officers appeared around the corner at the window. My heart rose in my throat as Claire and I exchanged a glance. Claire was a slight woman, but she pushed herself up from the table as if all the gravity in the world had dropped down on her. She struggled with the lock and then flung the door open wide. Detective Cook stood there, haloed by the sunlight that was pouring in around him.
“Mrs. Tierney,” he began, “is your husband here? I’d like to talk to the two of you.”
“Peter,” I said, jumping up and rushing to the door. “Is Peter all right?”
“Hello, Miss Taylor,” he said, obviously not thrilled to find me there. “Don’t worry. This has nothing to do with Peter.”
Claire let herself breathe. “Come in, officer.”
Cook stepped into the room, followed by the same uniformed officers who had been peering through the window. “Your husband?” he asked.
“Colin isn’t here right now. He’s disputing a bill with a distributor. He’ll be back before we open for the night. What is this about?” Cook looked over at me, and Claire surmised his thoughts. “It’s fine. She’s family.”
I realized that he viewed me as every bit as much of a bother, an inconvenience, as I saw him. I felt a bit slighted, even though I had no right to. Adam looked at me, curious about how I’d managed to make the leap from a kind of, sort of girlfriend to part of the Tierney clan. We hadn’t made the pregnancy public knowledge, and as yet there were no official wedding plans to relay.
“All right.” He pulled an old Polaroid out of his coat pocket. The picture had been wrapped in a clear evidence bag. “Do you recognize this picture?”
Claire took the bag into her hands and focused on its contents. Her legs collapsed out from under her as she fell heavily into a chair. I took the one next to her and reached out without asking permission and snatched it from her hand. The plastic somewhat obscured the picture, but the image was instantly recognizable. It was a photo of Peter’s father, Colin, and Claire holding a baby. It had to be Peter, but the child looked so scrawny and sickly I found it hard to accept that it could be. I focused on the background and realized that the photo had been taken in the very room where we sat.
Adam reached over and took the picture from me. “Mrs. Tierney?”
“Yes,” she said, regaining her composure. “Obviously. I don’t know who might have taken it, but it’s from when we first brought the baby—I mean, Peter—home. Where did you find it?”
“Are any family or friends visiting you right now?”
“No. No one,” she said, but then repeated, “Where did you find this picture?”
“We got a call this morning reporting that the body of an elderly man was found lying by the side of the road, just off Ogeechee. There was no form of identification on him, but we found this in his pocket. In light of certain unusual circumstances, we have to treat his death as suspicious.”
I felt myself blanching. My eyes were drawn to Claire, who had turned equally white.
“I hate to do this, but I need to ask you to come with me. See if you can identify the body.”
“Yes, of course,” Claire muttered. “I’ll call Colin. Tell him to meet us.”
“I would appreciate that, ma’am.”
As she stepped away from the table, moving over to the phone by the bar, Cook looked me deeply in the eye. “Do you know anything about this?”
“Of course not,” I snapped at him. Too quick. Too defensive. I shook my head. “I have no idea what’s going on.”
The biblical adage “Be sure your sin will find you out” came to mind. Guilt and regret caused a trickle of sweat to roll down my spine.
Adam nodded his head, as if he accepted my words, but I knew he didn’t. He forced his body into a more relaxed stance, and reached into his pocket for his omnipresent little black notepad. I’d witnessed this behavior before when he had come to question me about Ginny’s murder. He used the notepad as a prop, drawing a witness’s attention to it, leading him or her to believe that it contained a list of indisputable facts that pointed to that witness as the prime suspect in the crime being investigated. The pad could be considered an anachronism, but it was an effective tool all the same.
Claire hung up the phone, and Adam slid the pad into his pocket, his attention returning to her. Still, Adam had excellent instincts, and he was nothing if not tenacious. He’d circle back to me. I knew that much for sure.
“He’s on his way,” she said to Cook. “Mercy, will you stay here and help Peter open up if we don’t return in time?”
“Of course,” I said.
Claire leaned in to kiss my cheek as she passed me. “There’s a good girl,” she said. “Officers?”
The four of them left, letting the door bang shut behind them. I felt a sudden wave of panic rush through me, and I forced the door back open, nearly stumbling outside. The fresh air embraced me like a welcoming friend, but then a cloud passed over the sun, leaving me chilled and uneasy.