Broken Promises (7 page)

His mouth filled, he mumbled after her, “Don’t worry, darling, I won’t eat them all.”

Twenty minutes later, it was Mary’s turn to come jogging down the stairs and enjoy the aroma of fresh-baked muffins. The kitchen was neat and tidy and there was a heaping pile of still-warm muffins in the cloth-lined basket.

“Thank you, Ian,” she said. “Everything looks great.”

“Aye, and you owe me a greater favor than you think,” he replied. “Thanks to you I’ll be working out for several hours today to work off all the carbs your wily muffins tempted me to eat.”

“How many?” she asked, trying, but not succeeding in hiding a grin.

“Ach, I ate ten of them,” he said, rubbing his stomach. “I just couldn’t help myself.”

Her smile widened and she stepped up and placed a kiss on his cheek. “That’s one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me.”

He shook his head and winked at her. “Crazy women.”

The door opened as Ian spoke and Stanley walked inside behind Rosie. “Who’s crazy?” he asked.

“Women are crazy,” Ian repeated, joining Mary as they went to the door to greet them.

“I can agree with you on that,” Stanley said, grumbling more than usual.

“Stanley!” Rosie chided, her normal cheery disposition absent. “Women are not crazy.”

Mary looked at both of her friends carefully. “Is there something going on?” she asked. “You both seem awfully tense.”

Stanley shrugged. “I didn’t get much sleep last night,” he said, “that’s all.”

Rosie nodded. “Same here, it was a restless night.”

Grinning, Ian gave Stanley a soft punch on the arm. “Why Stanley you old rascal…,” he began.

“Tweren’t nothing like that, so get your mind out of the gutter,” Stanley interrupted. “Rosie was at her house and I was at my house. And I’m sure what kept me tossing and turning was nothing like what kept Rosie up.”

Rosie glared at him. “How do you know what kept me up?”

“I ain’t saying I know and I ain’t saying I don’t,” he said. “But what kept me up was so far out of the ordinary, I doubt anyone else would have experienced it.”

Shaking her head, Rosie turned to face him. “Well, what kept me up was also out of the ordinary,” she replied. “Quite out of the ordinary.”

“What kept you both up?” Mary asked.

“Ghosts!” they shouted simultaneously.

“Ghosts?” they asked, turning to each other.

“You saw a ghost?” Rosie asked Stanley.

“Didn’t exactly see it,” he said. “But something was there for sure.”

She nodded. “Yes, for me too,” she said. “In my bedroom.”

“Well, I’m sure there’s some explanation,” Ian said. “It’s certainly strange that you are both having similar experiences.”

“I wonder if it’s the same ghost, visiting both of you,” Mary said. “We could investigate...”

“Investigate what?” Bradley asked, coming through the front door. “Hey, are those blueberry muffins I smell?”

Bradley bypassed the group in the living room and headed straight into the kitchen. He picked up a muffin and took a bite. “Oh, Rosie, these are heavenly,” he said. “Stanley is a lucky man.”

Mary turned away from him, disappointed. “So, why don’t you tell me about the ghosts,” she said to Stanley and Rosie. She led them into the front room so they could sit on the couch.

Ian walked over to Bradley, who was helping himself to a second muffin. “You big dolt,” he whispered. “Mary was up at the wee hours of the morning making the muffins.”

Bradley’s eyes widened. “Mary made these?” he asked. “Why didn’t she say something?”

“I’m guessing because the person she made them for immediately assumed someone else made them,” Ian pointed out.

“I’m an idiot.”

Ian nodded. “Aye, you are. But even an idiot has a chance at redemption.”

Bradley put the half-eaten muffin on the table and walked into the front room where Mary sat on a chair across from Stanley and Rosie. He knelt down in front of her.

“You made the muffins,” he said.

She shrugged and nodded, turning her head away and not meeting his eyes. “No big deal,” she muttered.

“Stand up,” he said, as he stood up too.

She looked up at him. “What?”

“Stand up,” he repeated.

Shaking her head in confusion, she slowly stood up in front of him. “What?”

Moving quickly, he lifted Mary into his arms and started walking towards the door.

“What are you doing?” Mary cried, half-heartedly pushing at his shoulders.

“Grab your coat and your purse, Mary, I’m taking you to Vegas today,” he said. “I could barely wait until June to marry you when you were just the love of my life, but now that I know how well you can bake. Well, I know your parents will be disappointed, but there is no putting this off.”

She giggled. “You big goof, we are not going to Vegas today.”

Rosie laughed. “You just have to be back before Friday for our wedding,” she called.

“And you probably won’t be finding a bridal suite that includes a kitchen,” Ian said. “You’re better off staying here.”

“Please Mary,” Bradley grinned down at her, placed a kiss on her lips and whispered. “That was even better than the muffins. And the muffins were amazing.”

She shook her head and smiled at him. “You’re forgiven for thinking Rosie made the muffins,” she said, bringing his face down to hers for another kiss.

He deepened the kiss for a moment and then placed his forehead against hers. “I love you, Mary O’Reilly,” he whispered.

“I love you back,” she said.

Mary’s cell phone rang and Ian handed it to her. Her eyes still brimming with laughter and love, she answered it. “Good morning,” she called into the phone. “Hi, Sean. Did you get the information I sent you about Henry Madison? Yeah, we’re pretty sure he was another one of Gary Copper’s victims.”

Then the laughter left her face. “Oh, of course, I’ll tell him. Yes, we’ll be there. First thing in the morning. Yes, I know the place. Thanks, Sean. Love you too. Bye.”

Bradley slowly put her down on the floor. “What is it?” he asked.

“They are going to arraign Gary Copper tomorrow and Sean wants us all to be there,” she said.

Rosie hurried across the room and put her arms around Mary. “Are you ready to see him again?” she asked. “You have only just started to not react…”

Nodding, Mary returned the hug. “I’ll be fine,” she said. “I have to be fine. There’s no way that man in going to walk free again.”

Ian tossed Bradley another muffin. “Well, then, let’s have a sit down and discuss our plans,” he said. “Bradley did you get Henry’s information?”

Bradley nodded. “I’ve sent a request for a copy of his autopsy,” he said. “I’ll get it later this week.”

“Who’s Henry?” Stanley asked.

“The man who was raising my daughter,” Bradley explained. “We think Gary Copper killed him too.”

“Oh, my dear, Bradley, that’s horrible,” Rosie said. “What can we do to help?”

“Wait, what about your ghosts?” Mary asked.

“Oh, well perhaps it was a one-time thing,” Rosie said. “Nothing to get worried about.”

Stanley nodded, “Yeah, I probably imagined it. We got more important things to do.”

“Are you sure?” Ian asked.

“If I get another visitor, you’ll be the first to know,” Rosie assured him.

“Okay, well we do have a lot of catching up to do,” Ian said. “And I would suggest we get a move on.”

The small home on Freeport’s north side was showing gentle signs of neglect. The porch was scattered with faded sales flyers, plastic-wrapped telephone books and dried autumn leaves. The front steps still held remnants from the snowfall several days ago and there was a crack in one of the front windows from a thrown rock, the culprit still sitting on the sill.

“I’m so glad Katie had an extra key,” Mary said as they stood in front of the empty house.

“I still think it’s strange she would just leave,” Ian said. “This is where she’s made her roots.”

“When you feel helpless, the first thing you consider is running away,” Bradley said. “If she really had no one left, being lost in a crowd is a lot easier.”

Mary, Bradley and Ian made their way up the stairs and to the front door. Bradley took the key out of his pocket and inserted it into the lock. The door opened easily and they walked through the small hallway into the living room.

Sunlight illuminated the dust motes that lingered in the middle of the room. There was an overstuffed sofa in a floral design against one wall and a matching love seat next to it. A small bookcase of children’s books sat next to the loveseat, several books were still open with favorite pages exposed.

Mary walked over and picked one up. “This was one of my favorite books,” she said. “It’s all about a little bird who’s trying to find her mother.”

“Fairly ironic,” Ian said, looking over her shoulder.

“No, not at all,” Bradley said from across the room.

He was standing in front of a tall dark bookshelf that was divided into cubbyholes. In the center cubby was a small framed photo of a man, woman and a little girl, all smiling widely into the camera. “She looks like she wasn’t searching for anything,” he said, lifting the frame from the shelf and studying it more closely. “She looks like she was happy and secure.”

Mary and Ian walked over and looked at the photo.

“Aye, she’s happy. You can see it in her eyes,” Ian said. “But there’s no denying who her parents really are.”

“She looks like Jeannine, but she has your eyes,” Mary said softly.

He took a deep shuddering breath. “She’s my daughter,” he said, his voice cracking. “There’s no doubt in my mind. Clarissa is my little girl.”

Ian looked over Bradley’s shoulder. “She’s yours alright,” he said. “And it’s a blessing she didn’t get your nose.”

Surprised laughter slipped through his lips and eased the tension that had been building inside his body. He took a deep breath and put the photo back on the shelf. “Well, let’s get to work finding her,” he said.

Mary reached up, took the photo off the shelf and handed it to Bradley. “I think it would be fine for you to keep this,” she said, putting her hand up when he began to protest, “if for nothing else, it will be helpful to show people when we are searching for her.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, just nodded and slid the photo into his coat pocket. “Thank you,” he said, his voice tight with emotion, “thank you both for your help.”

“What’s to thank?” Ian asked with a casual shrug. “All for one and all that.”

Mary smiled softly. “Yeah, what he said,” she added, reaching up and kissing Bradley. “Now let’s find Clarissa.”

They walked through the first floor searching through desks drawers and cabinets for any more information that would help them find out where they’d gone. “Uh,oh,” Ian said, holding a small piece of paper in his hand. “The mother, Becca, is on theophylline.”

“What does that mean?” Mary asked.

“It means she has some kind of respiratory disease,” he replied. “And by the small dosage, she’s using it to maintain open airways, I would guess her lungs are deteriorating.”

“So, she’s trying to take care of a child in Chicago while she’s sick?” Bradley asked. “How did she even think she could do this?”

“Who’s in Chicago and what are you doing in my house?” a deep male voice demanded.

Both Mary and Ian turned toward the voice, but Bradley continued to search. Mary stepped over to Bradley and took his hand. “We have company,” she whispered to him.

He turned to see the ghost of a tall, muscular man dressed in work clothes standing in the doorway. “You’re the father,” Bradley exclaimed, “from the photo. You’re Clarissa’s father, Henry.”

“You know my daughter? Where is she? What have you done with Clarissa and Becca?”

The ghost raced across the room and hovered threateningly in front of Bradley. “Tell me what you’ve done with my wife and daughter,” he demanded. “Tell me where you’ve taken them.”

“You really love her,” Bradley said, some of the tension in his heart easing.

“Of course I do,” Henry exclaimed. “I’m her father.”

Bradley nodded. “Yes, you are,” he said calmly. “And I’m her father too.”

Henry shook his head. “Are you some kind of nut case? Are you like that dentist? Clarissa doesn’t need more than one father, and that job has been taken by me. Now, where have you taken them?”

“We don’t have your wife or your daughter,” Mary replied. “We’re here to find out what happened to them too.”

He shook his head. “Someone’s taken them,” he said. “Becca would have never left without me. I came home and they were gone. I’ve been searching for them ever since.”

Ian moved forward. “Henry, I’m Ian,” he said. “And this is Mary O’Reilly, a private investigator and this fellow you think is a nut is actually Police Chief Bradley Alden.”

Henry turned to Bradley. “You’re a cop?” he asked.

Bradley nodded.

“Good! It’s about time you guys showed up,” he said. “We’ve got to find my wife, she’s sick. If she runs out of pills…”

Ian held up the prescription form. “She runs out of air,” he finished.

Henry nodded. “She has COPD, she’s not supposed to be stressed,” he said. “I was taking care of her, of both of them…”

“Aye, I understand you were,” Ian said, “and doing a fine job of it. We’re friends of the Brennans and they told us how devoted you’ve been to your family.”

“That’s how…that’s how you know my name?” he asked.

“We know quite a bit about you, Henry,” Mary said. “Like how you went to see Dr. Gary Copper to ask him to leave your family alone.”

Henry nodded. “Yes, I went to see him and he agreed to leave us be,” he said.

“Did he give you anything to eat or drink while you were there?” Ian asked.

“Yes, he insisted I try his sweet tea. And I was trying to get him to see reason, so I did, ” Henry replied. “It actually was pretty bad, had a funny after-taste to it.”

“I bet,” Bradley said. “Copper was known for his bad after-taste.”

“Henry, do you remember what happened after you left Dr. Copper’s house?” Mary asked.

Pausing, Henry searched his memory. “I got in my car,” he said slowly. “I drove back to the highway… I was feeling a little weird, like the tea didn’t sit right. But I had to get to work…”