Carol Clark - Laced

“Jack, can you imagine what Jane and John Doe would think if they found out we were tracking them down based on a decal from a road race?” Regan asked.

“Let’s hope exercise proves to be their undoing.”

One of Gerard’s coworkers had given them general directions to Westweg, the town where Brad and Linda Thompson had recently purchased a home. “It’s a little village,” he’d said. “You’d best stop in town and ask for specific directions. It gets very tricky down there. Some of the houses and cottages can be impossible to find if you don’t know the area.”

“Sounds like a place they’d want to live,” Jack had commented.

After an hour of driving on endless scenic country roads and passing far more cows than people, they found themselves on the tiny main street of Westweg.

“Slow down!” Regan cautioned. “We almost missed the whole town.”

Jack pulled over and turned off the ignition. It was completely quiet, except for the sound of a slight breeze blowing through the trees. Not a soul was in sight. “Okay,” Jack said, looking around. “We have our choice of the pub, the chemist, the butcher, or the general store.”

“The store has two tables by the window. Maybe we can get a cup of tea and a bit of gossip.”

“Let’s hope we’ll find someone who likes to share information as much as Gerard,” Jack said as he got out of the car.

Inside the small store, all the shelves were crammed with food and supplies. It seemed to have all the basics for survival, but if you wanted eighteen cereals to choose from, a trip to Galway would be in order.

A sturdy, round-faced woman with wavy auburn hair, pulled back in a ponytail that was losing its grip, greeted them warmly. She was wearing an apron over a fisherman’s sweater and jeans. “May I help you?” she asked, wiping her hands on her apron. “My husband and I were in the back unpacking boxes.”

“We were wondering if we could get a cup of tea,” Regan inquired.

“Of course. Have a seat. Anything to eat? A sandwich perhaps?”

Regan and Jack looked at each other. They were both hungry and wouldn’t have dinner for several more hours. Jack nodded.

“Sure.”

“Ham and cheese on homemade bread?”

“That sounds wonderful,” Regan said.

Jack and Regan sat at one of the tables. In no time the fortyish woman was hurrying from the back of the store, carrying sandwiches and a pot of tea. “You’re passing through here, are you?” she asked, plunking the plates down on the small table.

“We’re actually looking to speak to a couple of people who live in town,” Jack answered in a neutral tone.

“And who would that be?”

“Brad and Linda Thompson.”

“Oh, yes, yes, yes,” the woman said.

“Do you know them?” Regan asked.

The woman took the question as an invitation to join them. She slumped into a chair at the next table which was just a few feet away. “I’ll sit and talk to you for a minute. I’m tired of unpacking boxes. My name is Breda.”

Regan and Jack introduced themselves. “So you know the Thompsons?” Regan asked again.

“Well, I can’t say I exactly know them. I know them, but I don’t know them.” Breda laughed. “That’s the way it is with a lot of people around here. At first they seem really friendly, but the heart of the matter is, they keep their distance.” She nodded knowingly. “My husband tells me I talk too much and ask too many questions.” She paused. “Why do you want to speak to the Thompsons?”

“We want to find out if they remember anything about a couple they might have encountered in a road race last November,” Jack told her, omitting the fact that the Thompsons were people they wanted to check out. “You see, we are staying at Hennessy Castle and…” He explained about the jewel thieves and the stolen tablecloth and that they had reason to believe Jane and John Doe had run in the Fun Run in Galway.

Breda’s mouth dropped. “I heard on the radio about the thieves who were out to get you, but I didn’t know they might have been in the Fun Run last November! Let me get myself a cup of tea.” She got up and hurried to the back.

“Perfect,” Regan said to Jack. Jack winked at her as she bit into her sandwich. It was delicious.

“Here I come,” Breda bellowed a moment later. She appeared again, plopping back down in her chair. “So you think these thieves might be staying in Ireland?”

“We don’t know,” Jack answered honestly. “But they were certainly at Hennessy Castle, and they have to go somewhere when they’re not working.”

“And Brad and Linda ran in the Fun Run?”

“We think so.” Jack asked casually, “What can you tell us about Brad and Linda?”

Breda’s eyes glittered with excitement as she pursed her lips. “They’re Americans.”

So far, so good, Regan thought.

“They’re new around here. I haven’t seen them much. They don’t live here all the time.”

Description still fits, Regan mused.

“What do they do?” Jack asked.

“I couldn’t tell you. They’re middle-aged; maybe they’re retired. They’ve been in the store a handful of times and said something about buying their house as an investment. They’re always pleasant but don’t volunteer much. I’ve never seen them at church or at anything in town here. Not that there’s much to do.”

“You don’t have a phone number for them, do you?” Jack asked.

“No.”

Regan was dying to ask Breda what the Thompsons looked like, but it would sound too suspicious. “We have the Thompsons’ address,” Regan said, “but we didn’t want to just show up and ring their bell.”

“I understand,” Breda said. “People buy houses around here because they want their privacy. Some people come here to write or paint in peace. Others are looking for the answer to the question, ‘What’s it all about, Alfie?’ and think they’ll find it in the middle of a bog. I don’t know. But the Thompsons seem like decent people who would want to help you catch a couple of criminals. You say they’re jewel thieves, right? Let me tell you something, Linda Thompson has deadly jewelry! You don’t see many people wearing the baubles she does to come in and buy a bag of feed. I’m sure Linda Thompson would be happy to answer your questions.” Breda jumped up. “Let’s see if they’re home. I’ll drive you down there right now. We received some wonderful jam in today’s delivery that the Thompsons specifically told me they liked. It’ll be a friendly gesture to drop off a jar, say hello, and introduce you.”

“You’ve been to their house before?” Regan asked.

“Not inside, but I know where everyone in these parts lives. I drove by the Thompsons’ cottage after they moved in.”

“What about the store?” Regan asked, looking around.

“Does it look busy to you? I think my husband can handle it by himself until I get back.” She took off her apron and yelled, “Sam! I’ll be back in a while!”

“Okay” came the response.

“Let’s go,” Breda commanded, grabbing her car keys from a hook by the door.

They were actually the keys to her little pickup truck.

Regan sat in the middle between Jack and Breda, who apparently thought she was driving an ambulance. They barreled down the tiny main street of Westweg.

“I love to be out in the wide-open spaces,” Breda said with exuberance. “I live in the country, but I’m cooped up in that store for hours on end. It’s not bad but…” She pressed her foot on the accelerator and zoomed around a slow-moving truck that was weighted down with piles of sod.

Regan felt her life passing before her eyes. We should have offered to follow her, she thought.