Falling Again (12 page)

Nick kissed his sister. “Just as fine as when you asked yesterday.”

To her daughter Amanda said, “Kat, please say hello to Fiona, too.”

“Hello,” Kat said. She looked at her uncle and then at Fiona. “Are you Uncle Nick’s girlfriend?”

“Sarah Katherine Richardson!” her mother said.

“It’s okay, Amanda,” Fiona said ignoring Nick’s snort as he attempted to hide his grin behind his niece’s curls. “Let me think about it for a minute, Kat. Okay, let’s see, I’m a girl.” She held up one finger. “Your Uncle Nick is my friend.” She held up a second finger. “So, I guess I’m his girl friend,” pausing between the last two words and holding her hand up, palm outward, for a high-five.

“Well, if you’re his girlfriend, why don’t you marry him? Then you’d be my Aunt Fiona.”

“This is why we try to stop her at the first appalling statement. If you don’t, it just gets worse,” Amanda said. “Kat, we don’t ask people about personal things, remember?”

“Okay, Mommy.” Kat had begun patting Nick’s face. Now she scrutinized him carefully. “Why do you look different, Uncle Nick?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you forgot what I looked like because it’s been a while since I’ve seen you.”

Amanda looked at him curiously. “Kat’s right, Nicky, you do look different. What have you…? Oh, my God, you finally learned how to shave properly.”

“All right, Amanda. Now it’s your turn to keep it down,” he said.

Amanda led the couple into the living room to join her husband, Tony, and Margo. “Look, Sam, Nicky finally learned how to shave.”

“This is what I love about my family. Five minutes into the evening and my niece and my sister have already embarrassed both me and my date,” Nick muttered.

“I’d forgotten you were halfway decent-looking underneath all the fuzz,” Sam said as he stood so he could clap his brother-in-law on the back. “Still not in my class but not bad for a kid.”

“I’m curious, Nicky, why, after Mom and I have begged you for months to shave, have you finally done it?” Amanda asked.

Tony grinned. “It’s what Fiona and Margo have in common, isn’t it? I have to do the same thing. Although not as much as I used to.” He turned to Margo. “Are we turning into a boring old married couple, sugar?”

“Can I get these appetizers organized?” Fiona asked, desperate to change the subject. “Amanda, do you have a plate I can use to put out the bruschetta?”

“Oh, you brought my favorite,” Margo said, her desire to move onto something else to talk about almost as strong as her friend’s. “Let me help.”

The two women headed for the kitchen with Amanda following.

“What’s Tony talking about?” Amanda asked as she got down a large platter and handed it to Fiona.

“It’s our Irish skin. It’s easily…well…it’s easy to…” Fiona began as she tried to hide her red face by busying herself pulling out toasted bread slices, mozzarella cheese, and a container of chopped and seasoned tomatoes.

“Oh, hell, Amanda, Nick probably shaved so Fiona isn’t covered in whisker burns all the time,” Margo said as she plucked basil leaves from their stems and put them on the bread slices. “When we were first together I sometimes asked Tony to shave twice a day, particularly on weekends so I didn’t show up in court with my face red and peeling like some horny teenager.
His
face got irritated from shaving so much until he started using an electric razor occasionally. It’s not so bad now. Either my skin has toughened up or we’re turning into the boring old married couple he mentioned.”

Amanda burst out laughing. “No wonder my mother and I couldn’t make Nicky shave. Thank you, Fiona. I hated his grubby, stubbly look. Wait ‘til I tell Mom. She’ll send you flowers.”

“The thing is, I kinda liked it,” Fiona said. “And I never asked him to. He did it all on his own this morning.”

Nick appeared in the door to the kitchen with two glasses of wine in his hands. “Is it safe to come in here?”

“Yes, Nicky. I’ll stop talking about your face,” Amanda said.

“Thank God. Now all I have to worry about is Kat. Wine, Fee?” He offered her a glass.

“Thank you, yes.” She looked up at him as she took the glass from him. His fingers brushed hers, their eyes held, unconsciously she took a deep breath and made a small sound of contentment as he formed his lips into the fleeting wisp of a kiss and touched his wine glass to hers. Margo and Amanda simultaneously turned away as if to give them privacy.

When he’d left the room, Margo put her arm around her friend. “I love seeing you like this.” She kissed her cheek. “It’s been way too long since you’ve looked happy.”

“I am happy,” Fiona said. “I’ve decided it’s time to stop moping and get on with my life.”

“Not that I don’t love my brother but you should know he has the reputation of leaving on the next plane for some assignment or other,” Amanda said. “I wouldn’t want you to get hurt again.”

“We’re just having a good time. I won’t get hurt,” Fiona said, not sure if she was trying to convince her two best friends—or herself. “He’s a great guy and he won’t leave Portland with me pissed off at him. I promise you.”

“What I want to know is, how come he gets away with calling you Fee? No one else can,” Margo said.

“I’ve never liked being called Fee. But when Nick does it...” She smiled and shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know. It’s just different, somehow.”

Margo hugged her again, then wiped at her eyes with a napkin. “Okay, let’s get these bruschetta out there. This is turning into a weepy chick session.” She headed for the living room with the appetizers and the other two women followed with plates of cheese and crackers.

Kat was in her glory for another half hour going from Tony to her Uncle Nick to her daddy, begging for bites of cheese and bruschetta, getting plenty of attention, while Chihuly followed her scarfing up the crumbs she let fall to the floor. When Amanda announced dinner was imminent, Sam took Kat upstairs to bed after five minutes of dramatic goodnight kissing and hugging. The adults went into dinner on his return.

After finishing their meal, Margo and Amanda went to the kitchen to make coffee. Everyone else went into the living room.

“Fiona,” Sam said before she could settle on the couch, “while I have a chance to do this when my wife can’t see I’m turning a social evening into business, would you mind talking with me for a minute?” He gestured toward the sunroom where the family’s home office was located. Fiona looked at Nick with a “do you mind” expression. He shook his head; she followed Sam and, with the last of her wine from dinner, sank into the comfortable chair he pulled over to the desk for her.

“I heard you had an interview with Preston Garland. Anything I should know?”

“I’ll tell you what little I found out if you’ll tell me what you can. Off the record, of course.”

When Sam nodded his head, she continued. “I had twenty minutes with Mr. Garland, who was quite proud of what he did. It was hard to hold my tongue when he was ranting on about how ‘those people’ are taking over and white men—he was specific about it being men—had to do something about it.”

“Yeah, I was in on some of the questioning before he got out on bail. He made me want to throw up—or punch him in the nose.”

“How the hell did he get out on bail, anyway? Isn’t someone who shot at the mayor someone who should be in jail until his trial?”

“You and I may think so but Judge Grayson didn’t. Garland has ties to the community and no record of any kind so the good judge didn’t believe he was a flight risk. The DA argued against it but lost. When he asked for, and got, an exorbitant bail, the guy’s lawyer never even blinked. Garland made bail within an hour.”

“When I talked to him, he seemed to be trying to get me to guess who was providing the money for him and the organization behind him,” she said. “I threw a couple names out—Duke Wellington, Sherman Bischler, and J. H. Ondsdorph—and he kinda smirked at me. Never could get him to confirm anything, but he seemed to want me to believe one or the other of them was involved somehow.”

“He give you any indication of an insider in City Hall who was involved?”

“He said not everyone in City Hall was happy with the way the mayor was running things. No names, just said someone on the inside was disgruntled. You’re still working from the theory someone on staff brought the gun into the building, right?”

“Yeah, Garland will only say a friend gave it to him. He says he brought it in with him, but the images from the security camera show him going through the metal detector clean.” He crossed his leg over his knee and nodded so she’d go on.

“One last thing from the interview. He said he was only sorry he failed, but he was sure the next person wouldn’t.”

“I’ll pass it along to the mayor’s security detail, although I’m not sure they can get much more vigilant. The mayor’s already complaining about how intrusive they are. Nothing else?”

“From the interview, no. And FYI, most of it will be in next week’s edition.” She waited to see if he objected. He didn’t so she went on, “I’m still working on the white power angle. The Southern Poverty Law Center says they don’t know anything about the White Knights group. They’re not on their list of hate groups in Oregon. They list ten in case you didn’t know.”

“Now eleven. Just what we need, a new group of crazies to stir things up.”

“Exactly.” She squirmed in her chair. “I’m sure there’re connections between the assassination attempt, the White Knights, and one of the three men. They all opposed Mayor Carter’s election and backed her opponent with big bucks.”

“True of at least half, maybe more, of the business people in the city because she campaigned on raising business taxes.”

“I know but the thing is, most of the business community started working with her after she was elected. These three haven’t.”

“Still, you’ve got nothing—other than a smirk from our perp—to link any of them to the attempted assassination.”

“And it’s making me nuts. There is one other thing, although I don’t know what it means. When Nick and I were on Mt. Hood we came on a huge cabin tucked away in a remote area. I was curious so I went and looked in the windows. Downstairs in this big room were all sorts of white power flags, including some with the White Knights logo. Nick took some photos of the place. I’m going to try to track down who owns it.”

“Still nothing illegal or linked to either the assassination attempt or your three businessmen.”

“I know. All I have are these little shreds of things. I feel like there’s something important I’ve already seen or heard, but it keeps slipping away from me.” She slid to the edge of her chair. “I think Nick has his digital camera with him. You want to see the shots he took? Maybe something will strike you.”

“Sure, I’ll take anything at this point to give me some traction.”

“So you don’t have anything for me?” She couldn’t sound disappointed because she hadn’t really thought he did.

“Garland hinted he had ties to a group like the White Power Knights. But he did the same thing with us he did with you—lots of innuendo; no facts. We know he has a history of involvement in some odd groups.”

“Like what?”

“A defunct neo-Nazi group in Idaho, a white power group in Spokane, some anti-government group in Kansas. He seems to have spread himself out, as an acquaintance of mine used to say, all over hell and half of Georgia.”

“Where’s he from?”

“Walla Walla originally but he lived all over the place for about ten years. Then, a couple years ago, he moved back in with his parents out in Clackamas County.” He fiddled with a pen on the desk. “He doesn’t seem to have regular work, which is interesting, given the cost of his high-powered attorney who specializes in representing white power groups. Unfortunately there aren’t disclosure laws for who pays the mouthpiece so we don’t know who’s footing the bill.”

“Anything else?” Fiona asked.

“One thing. Add another name to your list of local business people with possible flakey agendas: Lyle Cochran. He’s been in the mayor’s face about renaming Broadway and a couple other issues, and he may have met with Garland’s lawyer when he was in town last week.”

“I need fewer people to dig into, Sam, not more. But thanks.”

The door to the sun room/office opened and Amanda stuck her head in. “I came to break this up and insist the two of you join us for dessert and coffee. Nicky and I are feeling deserted.”

“Sorry, pretty lady. We’ll be out in a minute.”

Amanda said, “You better be,” and withdrew.

Sam stood up. “Keep me posted on what you find. And be careful where you’re poking sticks. These people aren’t nice.”

“Thanks. I will.”

“One more thing. It doesn’t take a detective to see you’re pretty wrapped up in the guy you’re with. Fair warning, these St. Claires have a way of getting under your skin. Permanently.” He smiled at her. “I should know.”

“I’m afraid you’re a few weeks too late.”

“Thought that might be the case. Don’t know what they have but whatever it is it’s powerful.” His smile turned into a grin as he opened the sunroom door.

Fiona beamed back at him. “Maybe there’s some Ohio genetic trait we Northwesterners are particularly susceptible to.”

They were both laughing as they joined the other four in the living room. Margo had brought out her contribution to dinner, a plate of fruit and mini tarts, and Amanda was pouring coffee.

Fiona settled herself next to Nick. “What were you and Sam so involved in?” Nick asked as he took her hand and kissed it.

“Sam’s working the attempted assassination of the mayor and we were exchanging information. Sorry. I got carried away. It was rude. Forgive me?”

“Nothing to forgive. Was he any help?”

“Not sure either of us helped the other.” She ducked her head for a second or so before changing the subject. “Can you give Sam a peek at what we saw on the mountain yesterday? I think he should know about it.”

Nick didn’t answer at first and she was afraid he was going to ask questions she wasn’t sure she wanted to answer just yet but finally he said, “Sure. The digital’s in the car. I wanted to show Amanda a couple of the Mt. Hood ones anyway.” He leaned in and said quietly enough only she could hear. “Then can we get out of here? I’ve had enough of sharing you for tonight.”