So This Is Love

chapter Seven

Aiden walked into Shanghai Kelly's, a bar on Polk Street, not far from his brother Burke's condo. With Brady's out of commission, they'd had to pick another place to meet. He was happy to be across town and not surrounded by firefighters. Although he'd been cleared in the incidence of his friend's death, there were still some men who thought he'd just found a way to get out of taking the blame for Kyle's death. He'd built a reputation for being reckless and daring in his twenties, and now in his early thirties, he was still paying for playing fast and loose with the rules.

He'd always been the black sheep in the family. Second in line, he'd had to follow Burke, who was the definition of perfect. Burke had been a fantastic student in school, a talented athlete, and a natural born leader. He never did anything wrong, and despite having a squeaky clean image he was still very well liked, mostly because he was good at so many things.

Growing up, Aiden had heard teacher after teacher proclaim in disgust, "Why can't you be more like your brother, Burke?"

Because it just wasn't in his DNA. He didn't like rules and he had little patience for those he didn't respect. But as much as Burke's perfect behavior irritated the hell out of him, he did respect his brother. And he had been grateful for Burke's defense during the recent events in his life. He hoped that as time went by, they'd become closer. He'd never made the effort before, but he was starting tonight.

He looked around the bar, spotting his two brothers seated at a back table. He walked across the room and took the chair next to Drew.

"You're late," Burke said, with his usual scowl.

Some things never changed. "It's not my fault this time. Dad cornered me after dinner. And you know how many questions he always has."

"We do know," Burke said, motioning for the waitress. "Let's get you a drink."

Aiden ordered a beer and then looked at his brothers, realizing that he'd actually started to miss them the last few years. The three of them had shared a room together when they were really young. At one time they had known everything about each other. But sometime after the age of eighteen, they'd lost that connection. Drew had joined the Navy, and while Aiden and Burke had gone into firefighting. Those early days had pitted him against Burke in yet another competition. When he'd decided to go into smokejumping, he'd been relieved to take a path that no one in his family had taken before him. He could make his own way in the world.

"So what did you tell Dad?" Burke asked. "I assume he asked you about your career plans."

"I told him that I'm considering my options."

"He must have loved that vague answer," Drew said, taking a sip of what appeared to be a vodka tonic.

"He was over the moon," Aiden said dryly. "But I told him the truth."

"Are you really done with smokejumping?" Drew asked.

"Maybe."

"It's difficult to believe," Burke commented.

He saw that same disbelief in Drew's eyes. "Why?"

"Because you live for thrills," Burke said. "You're addicted to the adrenaline rush that comes from jumping out of an airplane, or flying down a mountain road on a dirt bike."

"Or climbing a sheer rock wall with a pick and a rope," Drew added.

He grinned. "All true. But I have a new addiction."

Drew smiled back at him. "And her name is Sara."

He nodded. "Oh, yeah." He paused for a moment as the waitress set down his beer.

"I can't believe you two hooked up after all these years," Drew said. "Actually, I thought she used to have a crush on Burke."

"I thought so, too," Aiden admitted. "But she told me it was always me."

"And you believe her?" Drew challenged.

"Why wouldn't I?"

Drew laughed. "You cannot stop smiling."

"I know," he admitted. "I have no idea what I'm going to do for a living, where I'm going to live, but none of it matters because tonight I'll go home to Sara. And I never thought a woman could make that much difference in my life."

As he finished speaking, he saw a shadow in Burke's eyes and realized he'd probably touched an old nerve. Burke had been engaged several years earlier and had lost his girlfriend in a tragic car accident. His brother never ever talked about the loss, but it obviously was still with him.

"So what's up with you two?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Just working," Burke said, finishing his drink and motioning for the waitress to bring him another.

"It's a two-drink night?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. He couldn't remember a time when Burke had had more than one drink, especially during the week.

"Feels that way," Burke said, not bothering to explain what was on his mind.

That was Burke. He kept everything inside.

"I'm with you," Drew added, draining his glass.

Aiden turned to his younger brother, noting the shadows under his eyes. "What's going on with you?"

"I'm having nightmares about a woman." Drew tried to infuse a note of humor into his voice, but he fell short of the mark.

"I didn't realize you were seeing anyone," Aiden replied.

"Not that kind of woman." Drew let out a sigh that seemed to come from the depth of his soul. "She was part of a rescue mission I was on about five years ago. We saved three people, but we didn't save her."

Aiden understood exactly what Drew was going through, and Burke did as well. As firefighters, they rescued a lot of people, but not everyone.

"You can't torture yourself," Burke said. "You have to know you did your best. And that's all you could do."

"I'm not sure I did. But it's not a dead woman that's haunting me. It's a live one. I saw her last week. I was at Fisherman's Wharf with friends, and she was right there in the crowd. She turned, and she looked right at me, and I knew. She knew, too. I could see the recognition in her eyes. But we were fifty yards away from each other. There were tons of people. I lost her in the crowd."

"It wasn't her," Burke said flatly, no doubt in his voice.

"How do you know?" Drew asked.

"Because you saw her die."

"Maybe—"

"Don't go there," Burke put in forcefully, resting his forearms on the table. "I know what it's like to be haunted by a ghost. But that's all this woman is—a memory. You saw someone that looked like her, that's all. You want to believe it was her, because she died during your watch, and maybe you blame yourself for her death, but you can't bring her back, no matter how much you want to."

Silence followed Burke's words.

Aiden cast a quick glance at Drew and saw understanding in his younger brother's eyes. Burke might think he was talking about Drew's lost woman, but he was really talking about his own.

"Do you still see Leslie?" Aiden asked quietly, referring to his brother's fiancée.

Burke paled. "I don't want to talk about her."

"It might be helpful," Drew suggested.

"No, it wouldn't be helpful," Burke replied. "And I didn't invite either of you here to play shrink."

"So why are we here?" Aiden asked.

"I wanted to catch up with you both, but I also wanted to talk about Emma. I spoke to Max Harrison, the police inspector investigating the murder of Sister Margaret, and he thinks the perpetrator might be tied to the fire department."

"Because of the fire at the bar," Drew put in.

Burke nodded. "And the schools. Let's face it—a lot of guys in the department went through St. Andrew's."

"What do you propose we do?" Aiden asked. "I can tell you right now that Emma is not going to back down from doing her job."

"Agreed," Drew said. "Emma is one stubborn woman."

"We still need to keep an eye on her. She has a lot on her plate right now, and Max also told me that Emma has been getting harassing texts from her ex-boyfriend."

"Now that we can handle," Aiden said. "I'd be happy to have a talk with Jon."

"So would I," Drew said. "I never liked him. I can't believe he's harassing her though. I heard he cheated on her."

"Where did you hear that?" Aiden asked.

"From Nicole, but she wasn't positive. Emma doesn't share as much as she used to."

"I can't believe he cheated on Em," Aiden said with an angry shake of his head. "Now, I really want to talk to him."

"Calm down," Burke said. "I'm not suggesting you go break his kneecaps, just be aware, especially you, Aiden. Now that you're back at the house, you can keep a closer eye on her."

"I will," Aiden said. They'd always been protective of their sisters, but Emma was the one who had a tendency to get into trouble more easily and more often.

"I'd still like to talk to Jon," Drew put in.

"Let me speak to Emma first," Aiden interjected. "I want to hear from her exactly what's going on."

"Keep us in the loop," Burke said.

Aiden smiled. "So I'm not just back in the loop, I'm actually leading it?" he joked.

Burke shot him a pointed look. "Don't screw it up."

"You know every time you say that, all I want to do is screw something up."

Drew laughed. "This takes me back to all the times I watched the two of you fight. All I need is some popcorn."

"We're not fighting," Burke said.

Aiden laughed. "Not yet anyway." He shoved back his chair. "I'm going to take off. I'll talk to Emma tomorrow."

* * *

Emma was back in work mode early Tuesday morning. On her way to her office, she stopped at Harry Brady's house. The owner of the bar had had twenty-four hours to recover. Hopefully, he'd be available for an interview.

She rang the bell and Christian Brady opened the door with an unhappy expression on his face. Christian was three years older than her and had been in Aiden's grade growing up. He was a stocky man with a square face, receding hairline and a few extra pounds around his middle. She knew that he'd recently left his wife, which was why he was back with his father. His life was obviously not going well at the moment. She would try to remember that and have some compassion.

"I told you my father would call you when he was ready to talk," he said.

"I need to speak to him now, Christian."

"He's upset, and he almost had a heart attack. The doctor told him to avoid stress, and you're stress."

"I'll make it as quick and painless as possible." She wasn't going away until she spoke to Harry. "I know you want to find out who did this to the bar. So help me out here, Christian."

"My dad doesn't know anything," he said, but he stepped back and waved her inside.

As he shut the door behind her, she said, "Where's Robert?"

"I'm right here," Robert said, coming down the stairs.

Christian's younger brother, Robert, was the same age as Emma. He wore black sweat pants and a gray t-shirt. He was thinner than Christian, had far more hair, and looked a lot happier to see her than Christian had.

"Emma Lou," he drawled, using his old nickname for her. Louise was her middle name, and one of her teachers had insisted on calling her Emma Louise, which the kids in her class had shortened to Emma Lou.

"Hi Robert. How have you been?"

"Good. Christian said you're investigating the fire. Any leads?"

"Not yet, but I'm working on it. Were you out of town this weekend?"

"Yeah, I was in Santa Barbara."

"Business or pleasure?"

"Business. It was a job interview." Robert's gaze didn't waver. "If you need more information, I'm happy to provide it. Although, I'm surprised you're looking to the family for suspects."

"Because she doesn't know where else to look," Christian said sourly. "You sure do make a hell of an investigator, Emma. You think we burned down the bar? I own part of that building, and don't try to make it about insurance, because there isn't much."

"There's no need to be so defensive. These are standard questions, part of every arson investigation," she said. "Where were you when the fire broke out, Christian? I checked the duty roster, and you weren't on it."

"I was here, asleep, when my father got the call. He woke me up. I drove him over there."

"All right," she said, refusing to be intimidated by his angry gaze.

"Give her a break," Robert told his brother. He sent Emma an apologetic look. "It's been stressful around here. Seeing Dad like he is—it's rough."

"I understand. Where is Harry?"

"He's in the kitchen," Robert said.

She followed Robert down the hall. When she entered the kitchen, she saw Harry seated at the table, a cup of coffee in front of him, and a full plate of eggs that looked like they'd been sitting there for a while.

Emma sat down at the table while Christian stood behind his father, and Robert leaned against a nearby counter.

Harry gave her a bleak look. "Emma," he said heavily. "These are terrible times."

"I know. I'm sorry, Harry." She gave him a compassionate smile. She could hardly believe this was the same man she had seen at her father's party. On Sunday night he'd been laughing and talking, serving up drinks, telling jokes. Now he was pale and fragile, and she could better understand Christian's protective attitude. "I'd like to go over what you did Sunday night before you left the bar."

He gave a nod. "I locked up the way I usually do. Normally, on Sundays we close by eleven, but we stayed open until almost one o'clock. Everyone was having a good time, celebrating your dad's promotion. No one wanted to go home."

"It was a great party," she agreed. "Were you the last person to leave?"

He nodded. "Yes. Mark left about ten minutes before me," he said referring to the bartender.

"Did you notice anyone hanging around the bar, the street, the parking lot?"

"No. It was quiet. I locked the door, got in my car and drove home—the way I've done a million times."

"Who has a key to your bar?"

"Mark has a key. He closes up for me sometimes, but he's completely trustworthy. His wife recently had a baby. He wouldn't want to put himself out of a job."

"Anyone else?"

"Christian and Robert both have keys," he said. "And the janitorial service—J.P. Cleaners. I can get you their number."

Her heart sank at that piece of information. A janitorial service widened the circle considerably. Any number of people might have had access to the key or the ability to make a copy of the key. "What time do they usually come in?"

"Seven a.m., depending on the day." He paused. "Oh, and Mitchell has a key—my cook," he added. "He has worked for me for ten years."

She jotted down the names on her tablet. "Is that it?"

"Yes."

"Do you know if any of your employees are in any kind of trouble—financial or personal? Anyone have a grudge? Have you fired anyone who got angry about being terminated?"

"I haven't fired anyone in years. My employees are great people. If they have problems in their personal lives, I haven't heard about them." He let out a long sigh. "You're going to have a difficult time finding out who did this, aren't you?"

"I won't quit until I do."

He gave her a weak smile. "You sound like your father, now—confident, determined—a true Callaway."

"I'm going to need a list of employees, Harry."

"I have the list here," Christian said, as he picked up a file folder from the counter. "I anticipated your request."

"Thank you."

"Emma," Harry said. "I heard on the news that there was a body in the bar."

"I told you not to watch the news," Christian interjected.

"I'm a grown man. I can do what I want," Harry said with some bite in his tone. "Did the police identify her?"

"They did," she said slowly, not sure she wanted to tell him the bad news.

"And?"

He'd find out soon enough; she might as well tell him. "It was Sister Margaret Flannery from St. Andrew's."

Harry's pale skin turned white, the blood draining from his face.

Christian put his hand on his father's shoulder and Robert also moved across the room, giving his father a worried look.

"Dad?" Robert said. "Are you all right?"

"It's okay. I'm okay," Harry said, drawing in a deep breath. "How did Sister Margaret get into my bar?"

"We don't know yet."

"I can't believe she's dead. She taught both Christian and Robert. And I saw her a few weeks ago at Mass. She was organizing a fundraiser of some sort. She was always working for the school. She cared a lot about the community." He shook his head in confusion. "I feel like I'm in a nightmare and I need to wake up."

"Emma," Christian cut in. "I think my father should rest now."

She actually agreed with Christian. Harry's hand shook as he reached for his glass of water. His life had been shattered with the lighting of a match, and someone he cared about had died. Sometimes she got so caught up in the science of her cases that she forgot about the personal aspect.

"You take care of yourself, Harry," she said. "Don't scare us with any more trips to the hospital."

"I'll try not to," he said weakly.

Robert stayed with his father while Christian walked her to the front door. As he opened it for her, she asked one last question. "Do you know of anyone who might have wanted to hurt your father by burning down the bar?"

Christian shook his head. "I don't. My father has no enemies. A stranger is just a friend he hasn't met yet."

"Let me know if anyone comes to mind."

"I will," he said shortly. "I hope you're as good at your job as you think you are. My father and I both lost a lot, and I want someone to pay."

"So do I," she said. She didn't like Christian, but she had every intention of getting justice for Harry and all the others who had suffered at the arsonist's hands.