Carol Clark - Laced

“We just received word from a reliable source that a man and woman working together stole the tablecloth and set the fire, and left a note for Jack Reilly, an American who is head of the Major Case Squad in-”

Anna’s heart raced. She was exhilarated. All fears of prison were banished from her mind. This is what she lived for.

“-Reilly is reportedly not happy. He’s on his honeymoon, and looking for a couple known as Jane and John Doe is not the way he wanted to spend time with his new bride.”

Too bad, Anna thought.

“-The only description given of this couple is that they are average-looking-average height, average weight, no unusual characteristics. It’s easy for them to slip in and out of disguises and blend into crowds because they are so very average.”

The nerve of them, Anna mused. I feel pretty-like Maria in West Side Story.

“They were disguised as an elderly couple, but now who knows what appearance they’ve taken on? Whatever it is, you can be sure they don’t want to attract attention.”

That’s why we’re in this dump, Anna thought. A missing front tooth will most likely elicit a fair share of double takes.

“Anyone who has any leads, please call the garda.”

Uh-oh.

“Would you like to take a look at the newspaper?” Mother Sharkey asked sweetly.

Anna almost jumped. She was so startled to hear the receptionist speak to her. And the woman’s timing seemed suspect. “Thank you, I would.” She went over and retrieved a local Galway paper from the older woman’s outstretched hand.

Mother Sharkey snapped off the television. “I’m going into the house for a few minutes. If you’ll excuse me…” She didn’t wait for an answer, exiting through a door behind her desk, clutching the thermos bottle.

For a moment Anna panicked. Could this suddenly friendly woman be calling the garda about them? No. Anna realized she was being paranoid. Mother Sharkey is probably filling that thermos with whiskey. Anna glanced down and was immediately riveted by the headline on the front page of the paper.

CLADDAGH RINGS FOUND IN GALWAY BASEMENT

AUTHENTICATED AS ORIGINALS!

AUCTION EXPECTED TO FETCH A TIDY SUM!

Claddagh rings? Anna remembered that a couple of her Irish American friends in New York wore Claddagh rings. Her eyes widened as she skimmed the article.

Claddagh rings originated over three hundred years ago in Claddagh, a little fishing village in Galway. Legend has it that a Richard Joyce, who was from one of the original family tribes in Galway, had been kidnapped by pirates when he was on a trip to the West Indies. He was taken to Algiers where he was sold as a slave to a goldsmith who taught him the trade. Joyce proved to be very adept. In 1689, when King William III of England demanded the release of British slaves from Algiers, the goldsmith begged Joyce to stay, marry his daughter, and assume half his fortune. But Richard refused.

What an idiot, Anna thought as she continued reading.

Joyce returned to Galway where he found his true love still unmarried and waiting for him. He presented her with a ring whose design featured two hands holding a heart topped with a crown. The couple married, and together they lovingly made copies of her ring for the next forty years. Jewelers in Ireland and now the world over have been making Claddagh rings ever since. The announcement that Joyce’s five recently discovered rings will be available for sale is cause for excitement. The rings bear his stamp and are sure to fetch untold sums when they are put up for auction in Galway on Friday, April 15.

That’s this Friday, Anna thought. Then she looked at the date on the paper. It was a week old. She continued to read:

A cocktail party will be held at the Galway Arts Center where the rings will be on display before the 8 P.M. auction. The owner of the house where the rings were found plans to give half the proceeds from the sale of the rings to various Irish charities.

Not if I can help it, Anna thought excitedly. We’re going to steal those rings and sell them for a fortune on the black market. How many wealthy Irish around the world would love to have an original Claddagh ring? Wait until Bobby hears this! He’s bored sitting around the cottage, and so am I. We need to do something to make us feel alive. I told him I’d find something fun. I just hope this wacky dentist can make a decent-looking cap for him.

She could hear Bobby through the wall, laughing and talking loudly. That nitrous must be starting to affect him. She cocked her head to listen.

“We love to travel, just love it. We go all over. Henh, henh, henh. Henh, henh. Yes, we’re American. That’s your mother working out there, huh? My wife was admiring her pin. You picked it out? Super! My wife loves nice jewelry, too. I mean she really likes nice jewelry. I mean really, really, really likes jewelry. Henh, henh, henh, henh, henh, henh.”

Anna jumped up and yanked open the door to the treatment room. Dr. Sharkey looked at her with a shocked expression. Bobby’s face was covered with a mask, and, not surprisingly, he didn’t budge.

“Is anything wrong?” Dr. Sharkey asked.

“I heard my husband laughing. He shouldn’t have that gas. He has a little heart problem,” Anna said, gesturing toward her chest.

“A heart problem? He didn’t tell me that. That’s why we want you to fill out those awful forms!” Dr. Sharkey turned, shut off the gas, and then tapped Bobby on the shoulder. “You’re a scoundrel!”

“But-henh, henh.”

“Sweetie, no gas,” Anna said firmly.

“But I-”

“No.”

“I won’t let him have any more of the funny stuff,” Dr. Sharkey promised. “I’ll tell him jokes to make him laugh. Now, if you’ll go back to the waiting room, I’ll have him looking gorgeous in no time.”

Average, Anna thought. Just make him look average.

Regan and Jack stopped to talk to Clara on the way out of the Get in Shape gym. They showed her the list of people who had signed up at the last minute for the Fun Run in November.

“I don’t know any of them,” Clara said, shaking her head and tugging on one of her many earrings.

“Rory told us that one couple signed up right before the race started and signed a registration form, but their handwriting was so bad, he couldn’t read their names to add them to the final list of runners. Is there any chance you remember them?” Regan asked. “I know it was five months ago,” she acknowledged.

“Oh, those two! I remember them.” Clara scrunched her nose and started to laugh.

“You remember them?” Jack asked, surprise in his voice.

“For sure. They came running up to the table at the last minute. He signed their names super-fast, paid the money, and they pinned on their numbers. Then they dashed off to the starting line but didn’t get far. She tripped on her shoelace and fell. The guy started laughing really hard. I mean, he helped her up, and she was okay. I remember it because his laugh was so weird. A friend was helping me with the registration, and we started cracking up, and the fella started laughing even harder. He thought we were laughing at his wife, but we were laughing at his laugh.” She shook her head, smiling at the memory. “My friend and I still joke about his stupid laugh. It’s silly, but it’s one of those things.”

“I understand,” Regan said, thinking of how she and her best friend, Kit, still reminisced about some of the memorable characters they had met since college. “What was the laugh like?” she asked.

“I’m not as good as my friend is at it,” Clara said. “Maebeth is a perfect mimic.”

“Could you try?” Regan asked.

Clara smiled. “Okay. It was-” she scrunched up her face-“Hey, hey, hey. No, wait a minute. It didn’t sound like that. It was hey, hey, hey.” Clara grimaced. “Wait a second.” She picked up the phone and dialed at the speed of sound. “Maebeth, I need for you to do the laugh… I’ll explain later… Let me put you on speaker phone.”