Carol Clark: Laced

Jack smiled. “You think it’s May Reilly?”

“I knew you would think it’s crazy, but there was something hazy about her. And then she disappeared.”

“It’s just so unlike you.”

“I know.”

A framed print slid off the wall and crashed on the floor.

They were both startled, but then Regan smiled. “Maybe I’m not so crazy after all. But I refuse to get out of bed right now.”

Jack pulled her close. “So do I.” He turned and called out. “Good night, May Reilly! Let us get some sleep. Tomorrow we’ll admire your tablecloth.”

Regan laughed. But something was making her uneasy. Could I really have seen a ghost? she wondered.

Down the hall, Brian and Sheila had also climbed back into bed.

“I can’t believe it,” Brian said. “Of all people you chose to bump into, you have to pick the investigator wife of one of the NYPD’s biggest cops. What possessed you?”

“I couldn’t help it! The smoke was really getting to me, and she was walking out the door right in front of us. And she was so nice. I shouldn’t leave them our catalogue? Maybe they’ll pass it around to their Irish friends.”

“No! Of course not! With any luck they’ll forget about us.” Brian pulled the covers around his neck and turned off the light. “Head of the Major Case Squad,” he muttered as he closed his eyes.

I should have known that this project would be too risky, he thought uneasily. We could lose everything. Especially our reputation.

But we’re in too deep to back out.

I should have known.

There’s good reason they call New York the city that never sleeps, Sergeant Keith Waters thought late Monday night as he hailed a cab outside a downtown restaurant. He would be happy to get home. It had been a hectic day at work with his boss on his honeymoon. Jack’s top assistant, Keith-a handsome black man in his late thirties with boundless energy-smiled as he thought about Regan and Jack’s wedding. It had been a blast. People were on the dance floor all night.

On Sunday, he’d spent the day recovering.

After working until nearly 11:00 tonight, he’d gone to dinner with a couple of the guys from the office. As the taxi made its way up the West Side, he decided to check his messages at work one more time. Sometimes cases were agonizingly slow to solve. Other times they could break in an instant. Keith loved his job and, like Jack, was always checking in. It was not a nine-to-five existence.

There was one new message on his voice mail-from one of their paid informants.

“Keith, I know Jack is in Ireland on his honeymoon. I heard that those two jewel thieves, your favorite Jane and John Doe, are also aware he’s in Ireland. Word is that they might be there now. They plan to ruin Jack’s honeymoon by pulling something off right under his nose once again.”

Keith couldn’t believe it. The Does were masters of disguise, traveling all over the world and stealing jewelry wherever they went. They worked under numerous aliases. For the last seven years, since their first hit, they had eluded law enforcement. But last year their capture had become a personal crusade for Jack.

Regan and Jack had gone to a black tie reception at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. A woman lost an emerald bracelet worth $300,000. She thought it had fallen off her wrist at the cocktail party. The next day one of the museum workers found a business card tucked in the corner of a painting. It read:

WE LOVE EMERALDS. THANKS SO MUCH.

JANE AND JOHN DOE.

The thieves had obviously managed to slip the bracelet off the socialite’s wrist without being detected. Regan and Jack had spoken to the seventyish woman, a well-known patron of the arts, during the cocktail hour. Regan had complimented her on the exquisite bracelet. Then when the woman sat down to dinner, she noticed the bracelet was gone. After the calling card was left, Jack realized that the thieves were probably eyeing the emeralds at the same time Regan was admiring them. A month later a valuable diamond brooch was stolen during a fund-raiser at the Chicago Art Institute, and the Doe business card was found again.

Jack was interviewed after the second theft, vowed to catch the Does, and made no bones about what he thought of their character.

They must have heard the interview, Keith thought wearily, rubbing his eyes. He hadn’t planned to call Jack on his honeymoon. Heck, he knew he’d probably hear from Jack anyway. But there was no question he had to call.

Keith looked at his watch. It was 12:30, which meant it was 5:30 in the morning in Ireland. I’ll set my alarm and call the boss in a few hours. He shook his head. Jane and John Doe were really out to push Jack’s buttons-and on his honeymoon, no less.

He hoped they’d live to regret it.

At 8:30 A.M. the phone rang in Regan and Jack’s room. Groggily, Jack reached over and picked it up. “Hello.”

“Is this my new relation, Jack Reilly?” a man with an Irish brogue asked with great enthusiasm.

Jack rubbed his eyes with his right hand. “I’m not sure,” he joked. “Who’s this?”

A laugh boomed in Jack’s ear. “Gerard Reilly. Regan’s grandfather and my grandfather were brothers, don’t you know?”

“Really.”

“Indeed. Did I wake you?”

“No,” Jack lied. “Not at all.”

“I wanted to make sure you were all right. I just heard on the telly that there was a wee fire in Hennessy Castle last night, and I wondered if you needed to come and stay with us.”

“No!” Jack answered almost too quickly. “Thank you,” he added. “I think they have everything under control around here.”

“Grand. Well then, I know you were planning on coming around sometime this week. Would you like to come to dinner tonight? They said it might be a day or two before the Hennessy kitchen is up and running again at full steam. My wife is making an Irish stew that is superb.”

“Let me ask the boss here.” Jack related the conversation to Regan and handed her the phone.

“Gerard, hello. That sounds great for tonight.”

“Brilliant. How about coming at six? I think you already have the directions and such, isn’t that right?”

“Yes. Thanks, Gerard. We’ll see you later.” Regan handed Jack the phone.

As he replaced it in the receiver, he smiled at Regan. “I’m sure your relatives are lovely people, but I don’t want to spend my honeymoon with them.”

“Neither do I, but tonight’s a good night to have dinner with them-especially if the kitchen is out of commission.”

The phone rang again.

“Maybe it’s one of your cousins,” Regan quipped as she pulled the blanket up under her chin. The room was gray and cold.

“Hello,” Jack answered. He sat up quickly. “Keith, what’s going on?”

Regan watched as a stunned expression came over Jack’s face. I can only imagine what this is about, she thought.

“Let me know if you hear anything at all about them. You can call my cell phone at any time.” He hung up.

“Jack, what is it?”

“Word is that Jane and John Doe are in Ireland and want to pull something off to embarrass me while we’re here on our honeymoon.”

“How do they know where we are?”

Jack shrugged. He was thinking of the large wedding announcement last Sunday in The New York Times and several other newspapers. But there was no mention of their honeymoon plans.

“What should we do?” Regan asked.

“Let’s get dressed and go downstairs. I want to find out what happened here last night.”

When Jack went in to shower, Regan got up, wrapped a robe around her, and closed the windows in the room. She picked up the picture frame that had fallen on the floor, rested it on the dressing table, and studied the sketch of the grounds of Hennessy Castle. Regan then glanced out the back window.