A Catered St. Patrick's Day (21 page)

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Authors: Isis Crawford

BOOK: A Catered St. Patrick's Day
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“So did your manicurist tell you what happened?” Bernie asked Priscilla.
“No. Not really,” Priscilla replied. “All she said was that they let him leave. Or rather that’s what they gave out publicly. Something about downsizing. But the truth is they fired him. And told him if he didn’t leave they were going to have him arrested.”
Bernie and Libby exchanged a quick glance. This was definitely new.
“Interesting,” Bernie said. “Usually firms do that when someone has done something and they don’t want anyone else to know,” she mused, thinking out loud.
“Like what?” Priscilla said.
“Like something to do with money,” Libby replied promptly. “Like people stealing money from clients and firms replacing the money they took so that their clients don’t know and thereby go somewhere else. Do you think your manicurist would speak with us?” she asked Priscilla.
Priscilla wrinkled her nose. “I guess she might have, but she’s gone. She got married and took off for some weird place like North or South Dakota. Or maybe Idaho. I dunno. Anyway, some place that no one would like to go to.”
“Do you happen to know her married name?” Bernie asked.
Priscilla clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth while she thought. “Longview? Longbranch? Or maybe it’s Lowengard?
I wasn’t listening that closely. In any event I know it starts with a
lo
. Sorry I can’t be more help.”
“Not a problem,” Bernie said. “Let’s try another question.”
Priscilla giggled. “Gee. I feel as if I’m on the
The Price Is Right
or something. Give me another question.”
“Okey-dokey. So how long ago did this thing with Duncan happen?” Bernie asked Priscilla.
“Him getting fired?” Priscilla asked.
“Yes,” Libby said.
But Priscilla didn’t answer Bernie’s question. “Do you hear that?” she said instead.
“What?” Bernie asked because asv wi she didn’t hear anything.
Chapter 24
 
“W
hat am I listening for?” Bernie asked.
Priscilla didn’t answer. She had her head cocked and was listening intently.
“I don’t hear anything either,” Libby said.
“He’s about two blocks away,” Priscilla informed them.
A moment later, Bernie and Libby both heard the sound of a car coming closer.
“Who?” Bernie asked.
“Connor,” Priscilla answered.
“He should get his muffler fixed,” Libby noted. “It sounds as if it’s on its last legs.”
Priscilla swallowed. She put her hand over her lips. “You two have to go. You have to go now. Please.”
Bernie looked at her. Priscilla looked nervous. No. Not nervous, she decided. Scared.
“Why?” she asked Priscilla. “What’s the rush?”
“Connor just ... he doesn’t want anyone to know that we’re living with his parents. That’s all.” Priscilla rubbed her hands together. She was speaking so quickly now, running her words together, that Bernie and Libby had to concentrate on what she was saying. “He’s embarrassed so he’ll be really, really pissed if he sees you here. Then he’ll know I’ve been talking to you and he’ll be upset. He’s funny about things like that.”
“You talking to other people?” Libby asked.
“Well, talking about work stuff and our finances and things like that. He’s a very private person, that’s all.”
“You seem scared,” Libby told her, stating the obvious.
Priscilla smiled wanly. “It’ll be fine. I’ll be fine. He just yells a lot. I’m used to it.” She listened some more. “He’s almost here.”
Libby was about to tell her she had to be kidding, but Bernie caught her eye and shook her head imperceptibly.
“How about,” Bernie said to Priscilla, “if we just tell him we dropped in to talk to you about an order you placed?”
“At this time of night?” Priscilla asked. “And for what?”
“His birthday cake,” Libby said.
“Connor’s birthday is in June,” Priscilla replied.
“Fine. Then for a special dinner you were making for him. And you wanted to surprise him and we were passing by and decided to take a chance and see if you were home,” Libby said as Connor’s car roared into the driveway.
“I don’t know,” Priscilla said.
“I think it’s going to have to do,” Bernie told her. She had to admit that the story wasn’t the greatest. She wished she could think of something more plausible, but at the moment her mind was a blank.
“It’ll be fine,” Libby added with uncharacteristic optimism.
The three women heard Connor’s car door slam shut. Then they heard him coming up the stairs. As one they all turned toward the door. A moment later the door flew open and Connor came in. His hair and jacket were wet from the rain. Libby and Bernie noted that he didn’t look like a happy camper. Bernie wondered whether that was because he’d gotten wet or whether he’d caught up with Patrick, and if that wa. Sher eye ans the case, she wondered what Patrick had said to him. Probably nothing good, judging by Connor’s expression.
Bernie plastered a big smile on her face and said, “Hi, Connor. Don’t mind us. We were just leaving.”
Connor looked startled to see them. And then he looked angry. “What the hell are they doing here?” he demanded of Priscilla, ignoring Bernie and Libby.
This did not sit well with Bernie. “Hey,” she said to Connor before Priscilla could reply. “There’s no need to be rude.”
Connor turned toward her. “What are you? The manners police? For your information, I’m not being rude. I’m merely inquiring of my wife why we have visitors so late in the evening, which I have a perfect right to do since you are in my home after all. Is that all right with you?”
“It’s fine,” Bernie told him. She turned to Priscilla. “Should I tell him?”
Priscilla didn’t reply and Bernie was afraid Priscilla was about to drop the ball when she rallied and said, “I guess you’re going to have to.”
“Tell me about what?” Connor demanded.
“We just dropped by to discuss the dinner we were catering for you. Your wife wanted to surprise you.”
“At this time of night?” Connor asked incredulously.
“Well, we were just passing by and happened to see you going out of the house so we decided to take advantage of the situation,” Bernie told him. Even as she was saying it she decided it sounded pretty lame.
Connor looked at Priscilla. “Is that true?”
Priscilla nodded. But she averted her eyes and studied a patch of carpet on the living room floor. Dead giveaways that she’s lying, Bernie thought.
“Well, I don’t believe you,” Connor said to Priscilla.
Before Priscilla could say anything, Connor turned to Bernie and Libby. “You two followed Patrick here, didn’t you?”
“That’s ridiculous,” Bernie replied.
“Is it?” Connor replied.
“Yes, it is. Are you saying my sister lied?” Libby said, trying to sound indignant, but sounding squawky instead.
“Yes. I’m saying your sister lied,” Connor replied, mimicking Libby’s tone of voice.
Libby raised her chin. “I resent that,” she said.
“Wow. That makes me feel really bad,” Connor sneered. “Patrick told me he thought he saw your van in the rearview mirror and here you are. Amazing coincidence, wouldn’t you say?”
“It’s called synchronicity,” Bernie said. Then she decided to play it straight, because the approach she and Libby were using obviously wasn’t getting her anywhere. “Is that what Patrick said?” she asked Connor, changing the subject.
“As a matter of fact, Patrick did,” Connor replied.
“Is that why you went after him?” Libby asked.
“Why I went after him is none of your business,” Connor snapped.
“So you’re not going to tell us what you think about what we said to him?” Libby continued.
Connor smiled. The smile reminded Libby of a shark’s. All teeth. Nothing else on Connor’s face moved. “I’ll be happy to tell you what I think. I think you two are just trying to rattle him.”
“It looks as if we succeeded,” Bernie nd,to oted. “Maybe because we’re correct.”
“You are so wrong on so many different levels,” Connor scoffed. “You just got Patrick in an off moment. But he and I had a chat and now he realizes that what you said is all lies. You just want to get Duncan off the hook and get one of us on it.”
“I do want to get Duncan off the hook,” Bernie told Connor. “You’re right about that. But I am telling the truth.”
Connor stuck his face in Bernie’s. “It’s been a long day and my patience is exhausted. You and your sister are nothing but a couple of troublemakers,” he snarled. “Now I want you to get out of here before you get hurt.”
“And who is going to hurt us?” Bernie asked, standing her ground. She was damned if she was going to let herself get run off by this bozo.
Bozo.
It was a nice word. She liked it.
Connor pointed to himself. “I am.”
“I’d like to see you try,” Bernie flung back at him, although looking at Connor’s face, she regretted the words. What am I doing? she thought. Why can’t I ever learn to keep my mouth shut? This guy was a rugby player. He outweighed her by eighty pounds, easy. He could put her in the hospital with one swat of his hand.
“You should go,” Priscilla said to Bernie and Libby over Connor’s shoulder.
Connor whirled around. “Was I talking to you?”
Priscilla cringed. “N-no,” she stammered.
“Then stay out of this,” Connor told her. “You’ve done enough damage already.”
“But, Connor, I really didn’t say anything,” Priscilla wailed.
“She didn’t,” Libby said.
“Did you?” Connor asked Priscilla.
“No,” Priscilla said. She raised her hand. “I swear.”
Bernie noted that Priscilla’s voice was quivering. “We’re going,” Bernie said hastily. She realized she didn’t want to get Connor any angrier than he already was for Priscilla’s sake. “We’re going right now.”
And she and Libby turned to leave. As soon as they were out the front door, Connor slammed it behind them.
“He has quite the temper,” Libby observed as they walked down the path to the sidewalk. Bernie and Libby both put up the hoods of the jackets they were wearing to shield their faces from the rain. “Maybe we should have stayed.”
“No. I think we would have made it worse if we did that,” Bernie said as she stopped and turned and listened for any sounds coming out of the house.
Libby disagreed. “I’m not so sure about that.”
Bernie didn’t say anything.
“Why are we standing here?” Libby asked.
“To make sure that Priscilla is all right,” Bernie replied. “To make sure we don’t have to call the cops.”
Libby suddenly felt embarrassed that she hadn’t thought of that too. She and Bernie stood there motionless for a couple of minutes. They were listening to what was going on inside the house. But all they heard was the television, just like before they’d gone inside. They didn’t hear anything breaking, they didn’t hear Connor yelling, they didn’t hear Priscilla screaming. There was nothing except the sounds of raindrops pattering on the steps and the path, the occasional car going by on Liberty Avenue, and a dog barking down the street.
“I think I fo〜Iscillund something significant in the bathroom,” Libby said once she and her sister had gotten in the van. “Maybe.”
“What?” Bernie asked.
“A plastic bottle full of Oxi,” Libby said.
“Judging from what we’ve seen here, I can understand why Priscilla would want to have something like that, although if it were me I’d have taken a sledgehammer to her husband’s head by now,” Bernie said.
“So violent,” Libby said.
“Sometimes that’s the only way you can get your point across,” Bernie replied.
“Anyway,” Libby continued, “the bottle didn’t have Priscilla’s name on it.”
“Connor’s?”
“No one’s,” Libby said.
“So what did the label say?”
“There was no label.”
Bernie put the key in the ignition and turned on the van. “So how do you know the pills are Oxis? They could be vitamins.”
“I recognize them from when Marvin broke his foot. And since they didn’t have a label, I’m betting they’re not prescription.”
“I wonder if Connor’s hooked on them,” Bernie mused as she turned on the windshield wipers.
“Maybe we should drive over and ask Duncan,” Libby said. “He might know.”
“And as long as we’re there, we could
ask him about getting fired too.”
Bernie pinned her hair back up. “Being efficient. I like it.”
“Of course, he may be asleep,” Libby said.
“Then I guess we’ll just have to wake him up,” Bernie replied as she pulled onto the road.
“At least we know that he’s home,” Libby noted as she leaned over and turned on the radio. “He’s not going anywhere with that ankle bracelet on, that’s for sure.”
“I’ll say one thing for Connor,” Bernie observed after a few minutes had gone by. “He sure is a good fit.”
“For killing Sweeney?”
“Yeah. He has the strength and the temper.”
“That he does,” Libby agreed.

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