“I’m sure Agent Frasier doesn’t care about my childhood, and it’s getting late,” she said, embarrassed.
“And I have an early call,” Kevin said. “Time to go.”
He’d gotten the job he’d auditioned for. She wasn’t exactly sure what he was doing, but it had something to do with being a singing potato chip.
“Wanna take me home on your way?” she asked her brother.
“I’m not going home. I’m sleeping at your apartment,” he told her. “Early call, remember? And I didn’t drive in, because I didn’t want to deal with finding parking in the city.”
“How about I get you both home?” Agent Frasier asked. “I have a car.”
“Oh, really, that’s okay. We can hop a train,” Kieran said.
“Works for me—thanks,” Kevin said, ignoring her.
“You two get going now,” Declan said. “Danny and I can close up. I have the weekly pro cleaning crew coming in tomorrow, so there’s not much for us to do tonight anyway. And thanks, Craig.”
So she was calling the guy Agent Frasier and her brothers were on a first-name basis with the man.
She forced a stiff smile. “Well, thanks. I’ll get my things.”
Kieran didn’t have to make small talk. Kevin talked all the way. Apparently Craig had expressed interest in Kevin’s career, and now Kevin was telling him how grateful he was that he had the family pub to fall back on. So many actors had trouble making it in the city because they couldn’t find jobs to keep them going while they went through the arduous audition process.
They reached St. Marks and her apartment quickly; the traffic was light that time of night. She managed to jump out of the car before anyone could offer to help her. Her brother and Frasier exchanged goodbyes, and then Frasier told her, “I’ll pick you up here tomorrow around eight thirty.”
“I need to talk to my bosses. I know they won’t protest, but—”
“Don’t worry. My boss will take care of that,” he told her.
“C’mon, time for bed,” Kevin said. “Early morning for both of us.”
Her apartment was directly above a Japanese restaurant and karaoke bar. Someone was warbling their way through “Don’t Stop Believin’,” and the sounds of laughter and conversation drifted all around them as they climbed the steps to her place. She loved her apartment, so she didn’t mind that a bit of noise seeped up every night. It was one of four units on this floor, and there were eight more on the two floors above.
She loved her whole neighborhood, where there were still stores selling unusual items—crafts, imports—along with those carrying the usual T-shirts and souvenirs.
“I wonder if I should pop down and try a few numbers, get some practice in,” Kevin mused, more to himself than to her. “Nah, I should get to sleep.” He paused as she used her two keys in their respective locks. “You okay?”
“I’m fine, why?”
“You’re so quiet. That FBI guy you’re working with seems great. You’re lucky—damned lucky—he came along.”
“Yes, especially when I shouldn’t have been at the store at all. You’re not going to point that out?”
“I’ll let Declan keep the paternal thing going. You know you shouldn’t have been there without me telling you. But listen, I love Julie, too, but you’ve got to draw a line. Let her cry on your shoulder, but stay the hell out of the shenanigans between her and Gary.”
“He could have killed those dogs,” Kieran said indignantly.
Inside now, she closed the door and double-bolted it, then headed to the living room closet. She took out the guest bedding while Kevin unfolded the sleeper-sofa. Her place was fairly small—only her bedroom, a tiny nook she used as an office, the kitchen and the living room—but it had been an incredibly lucky find. It had a private bathroom off her bedroom and a guest bathroom to the left of the kitchen, off the dining area.
Her sleeper-sofa was the only modern piece of furniture she had. The rest consisted of odds and ends and period pieces: an art deco buffet she’d found at an estate sale, a Duncan Phyfe love seat she’d found in pieces at a bric-a-brac shop and had reupholstered, and more. Her walls were covered with framed movie posters and prints of old masterpieces.
“Care if I keep the TV on while I fall asleep?” Kevin asked.
“Not at all. I’m accustomed to noise,” she reminded him, smiling.
“So what’s your beef with Craig?” he asked, surprising her.
“I don’t have a beef with him.”
“Then what’s your problem?” he asked.
“I don’t have a problem.”
“Okay then, what are you afraid of?”
“I’m not—”
“I’m your twin.”
“Yeah, and you and Danny have checkered pasts,” she reminded him.
He started to laugh. “You think a guy who chases killers for a living gives a damn about our little past transgressions? He’s looking at the bigger picture.” He sobered, turned sympathetic. “If you’re afraid working with the Feds is going to put you in danger, you should bow out of the investigation.”
“Afraid? They caught the guys.”
“But did they catch all of them? That’s the real question, isn’t it?”