The Delaney Woman (27 page)

C
laire was cleaning the kitchen floor, reluctantly. Housework had never appealed to her. Only the tacky feeling wherever she stepped prompted her to take on the unpleasant task of crouching on her hands and knees to scrub the pathway and corners where food and spills had collected.

The ring of the phone was a welcome respite. When she listened further she was concerned and then angry. “I'll be right there,” she said tersely.

Replacing the phone, she grabbed her jacket and ran out the door.
Damn Tom Whelan. Where was he? What was so important that he needed to absent himself for days at a time?
She was tempted to call his mobile phone, but pride kept her from it. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing she couldn't cope.

Mother Mary Patricia had come up in the world, Claire reflected bitterly. Years ago she'd been an eighth-level teacher. Now she was principal of the school Heather attended. Claire hadn't cared for the nun when she was a student in her catechism class. And she wasn't looking forward to this meeting.

A mousy woman dressed in gray wool ushered her into the principal's office. The nun sat at her desk, elbows perched on top, hands touching in a pyramid. Heather stood before her even though there were two empty chairs in the room. Claire gritted her teeth. She wished she had bothered to change clothes.

“Hello, Mrs. Whelan,” said the nun. “Please sit down.”

How long had Heather been standing? Suddenly Claire was angry. “I
will
sit down.” She pulled over one of the chairs. “Heather, love, you've been very ill. It isn't good for you to strain yourself. Come and sit with me.”

Obediently, the child climbed on Claire's lap.

Claire kissed her cheek. “Don't worry, love,” she whispered. “It can't be that bad. No one's dead.” She looked at the nun. “Now, Mother. What exactly is the difficulty?”

“It isn't
one
difficulty, Mrs. Whelan. Heather isn't herself lately. She's done quite a few things that are uncharacteristic. Perhaps you can explain.”

“What exactly has she done?”

The woman ticked Heather's transgressions off on her fingers. “For one thing, she pulled the fire alarm. When I asked her why she'd done so, she told me she
felt like it
. Then she refused to pick up the crayons and markers she was using for an art project. Her teacher asked her to clean up around her desk and she told her
she didn't want to.
”

Claire's eyebrows rose. “Is that all?”

Mother Mary Patricia exploded. “No, as a matter of fact, it isn't all. But it is very unusual. Heather is normally a very polite, accommodating young lady. Lately, I would hardly describe her that way. We can deal with it, of course, but we're not here to do that. We work with the total child. I, for one, would like to know if there is a reason she's acting out.”

Claire's heart pounded. “Heather, love, please wait outside in the front office. Tell the secretary that you need to sit down.”

Again, the child did as she was told.

When the two women were alone and the door was tightly closed, Claire began. “I think my return has been a difficult adjustment for her. After all, to have a mother again after seven years is traumatic.”

“I would think having a mother would be a positive addition to her life.”

Damn the woman
. “I didn't realize you had a degree in psychology, Mother,” Claire said sweetly.

Mother Mary adjusted her glasses. “I'll be blunt, Claire Whelan. You were difficult as a child. I didn't tolerate it then and I won't now. This is a respected private school. We can't have unacceptable behavior here. It isn't good modeling for the other girls. I'm willing to give Heather a chance, given her previous record, but I have to know what I'm working with.”

Claire's instinct was to stonewall, but Tom's advice about fitting in stopped her. There was Heather to consider. She sighed. “Heather is confused,” she explained. “My husband and I are having difficulties. I don't know how long I'll be here. I'm sure it's affecting my daughter. Unfortunately, there isn't a thing I can do about it. Please, be patient with her. I'll do whatever I can.”

The nun was silent for long seconds. “Thank you,” she said after a bit. “I appreciate the honesty and I'm sorry for your situation.” She hesitated. “As long as we're having this discussion, may I ask if I should speak to Heather's father?”

Claire shrugged. “Not unless you're a marriage counselor.”

“Hardly, although there are those who are influenced by the clergy. Susan Whelan is one of those.”

“I don't think her son is.”

The nun leaned forward. “How are
you
, Claire? We've all been quite worried about you.”

Claire stood. “I'm weary, Mother, and dreadfully worried about my daughter. If you can help her, I would deeply appreciate it.”

The nun nodded approvingly. “We'll do what we can. Take a minute to talk with Heather and then send her in to me.”

Claire was only too anxious to leave. In her haste to close the door and reassure Heather, she nearly bumped into a young woman standing at the copy machine.

She smiled. “Hello, Claire.”

Dear God, what now?
“Hello,” Claire replied cautiously.

“How are you?”

“I'm well, thank you, and you?”

“Fine.”

The woman was lovely in the dark-haired, creamy- skinned way of Irish women. She looked familiar.
Who was she?

“I noticed Heather waiting outside on the bench. Is something wrong?”

Claire cleared her throat. “A little misunderstanding, that's all.”

The woman lowered her voice. “If I can help, let me know. Even though James is gone, I'm still her aunt.”

Shocked into silence, Claire stared at the woman.
A relative, her sister-in-law, and she didn't recognize her
. Another reminder of how she no longer fit “You're Kate Whelan from Dublin, James's wife?”

“Actually, I'm his widow.”

Claire flushed. “I'm very sorry.”

“Thank you.”

Kate had asked her something. She had no idea what it was. “I can't stay,” she said. “I've got to find Heather. Mother wants to speak with her again and so do I.” She moved purposely toward the door.

“I meant what I said,” Kate called after her. “Call me any time.”

Claire didn't answer. She would find Heather and then she would call Tom. Something had to change. She was tired of waiting. She wanted her own life.

The lovely old building where the Irish members of Parliament had their offices was set back on Penbrook Lane across from Big Ben. Wooden benches, mature trees and a garden gave it a pastoral quality in a city where green trees and grass were relegated to Hyde Park. Tom opened the hand-carved oak door and motioned Kellie in ahead of him. Together they climbed the stairs to the second floor.

Kevin Davies, casually dressed in tweed and khaki, stood and held out his hand first to Tom and then to Kellie. “Thank you for coming,” he said. “Please, sit down.”

The office was plushly decorated. A Persian carpet covered the wooden floor, expensive draperies bordered the windows and a collection of fine art and family photos added color to the walls. The furnishings were comfortable and modern.

“I was surprised to see you, Tom,” began Davies. “It's been a long time. We've lost touch.”

Tom nodded. “It was better for both of us that way.”

“I want to assure you, as I've assured Kellie, that I don't condone Dennis McGarrety's actions.”

“Where is McGarrety?” asked Tom. “I thought he would be here.”

“He had to leave,” apologized Davies. “I'm sorry.”

Kellie broke in. “You might not condone Mr. McGarrety's actions, but you don't condemn them, either.”

“Actually, I do, Kellie. But I can't take responsibility for every disenfranchised group that supports my candidacy. These people, unless they're felons, are allowed to vote. They vote for whom they please. I can't control them.”

Kellie had to admit that his logic sounded sensible, but she was still angry. “My brother and nephew are dead because Connor was closing in on the details of the incident you told me about. How can you absolve yourself of responsibility?”

“I had no knowledge of McGarrety's plans. We don't move in the same circles. We don't speak or communicate in any way. I finished with all that years ago. Isn't that right, Tom?”

Tom Whelan, his eyes narrowed, forehead furrowed, shook his head. “I thought so, but now I'm not sure. You moved in the same circles last night. Kellie's right. He's acting with your implied consent. He knows your every move. It is your responsibility and you must do something. If that means revealing the truth about what happened, so be it.”

“That's easy for you to say.” Davies voice shook. “I'll be ruined.”

Kellie needed him to say much more than that. She interrupted. “The incident happened fifteen years ago. Surely there's a statute of limitations.”

“There's no limitation on murder,” Davies said. “The women were innocent victims. I'll lose my position and go to jail.”

“Are you sure they were innocent?” Kellie suggested.

“Whether they were or not, they didn't deserve what I did to them.” He shuddered. “I can still see that car going up in flames.”

She pressed him. “Was that the first time you killed anyone?”

Tom looked at her strangely.

“Lord, no,” said Davies, “but I'd never killed a woman, no matter what her affiliations were.”

“It happened, Kevin,” Tom said gently. “You did what you did. Perhaps losing your position is your penance.”

“There has to be another way.”

Tom shook his head. “I don't think so. I came here to warn Kellie that she may be in danger. McGarrety knows she approached you. How would he know that, Kevin?”

“I have no idea,” he blustered. “Perhaps we were seen together or perhaps there is a leak somewhere else.” His eyes widened. “You don't think I told him?”

“Aye,” said Tom. “I do. He knew about your dinner party. He knew Kellie would be there.”

“That's absurd. Why would I tell him that?”

“To warn her away.”

“Why would I arrange a high-paying position at an exclusive girls' school if I wanted to threaten her?”

“To throw her off the scent,” Tom replied promptly.

“I'm not taking the job,” said Kellie. “You can't buy my silence. My brother was killed along with his four-year-old son. Do you have children, Mr. Davies?”

“I do, and believe me, I understand your pain. There was no buying intended. I merely wanted you to know how appreciative I am for your cooperation.”

Kellie wet her lips. “That's just it, Mr. Davies. I'm not going to stay silent. I'm going to the authorities with what you told me. Dennis McGarrety must be stopped. If you won't do it, I will. I'm sorry that your past may be exposed, but I'm not backing down.”

Sweat beaded on the politician's brow despite the cool temperature. “How long do I have?”

“The longer I wait, the more dangerous it is for me.”

“Is there anything I can do to dissuade you?”

“No?”

“What if I resign?”

Kellie looked at Tom.

“You would do that?” she asked.

“If you agree not to implicate me.”

“Why?”

“I'd rather go out with my name clean and my pension intact than fight public disapproval and financial penalty after it's smeared.”

“What about McGarrety?” Tom asked.

“He'll have no reason to harm Kellie. He's not a psychopath, just a man with a mission. I'll handle him.”

“If we don't tell anyone, what guarantee do we have that Kellie and I won't be targeted?”

“I won't tell McGarrety what's happened here today. He'll have nothing on Kellie.”

Once more Tom shook his head. “Dennis isn't stupid. He'll figure it out. We have to think of something else.”

Kellie was done with thinking. She had Kevin Davies's confession on tape. It was all she needed.

“What if, instead of resigning, I decide not to run again?”

Kellie was finished. She stood. “That is your choice to make. I appreciate your time and your sacrifice, Mr. Davies. But I must tell you that I'm not through with Dennis McGarrety. He had Connor and Danny killed. I want to see him go to prison.”

Davies passed his hand over his eyes. “Dennis McGarrety is a survivor. He's also very lucky. Be careful. He hasn't a great deal to lose.”

Kellie drove Tom to the airport at Heathrow. She pulled up to the pavement outside the domestic departure area. “Goodbye, Tom. Take care,” she said brightly.

“Do me a favor,” he said.

“Of course.”

“Don't go after McGarrety alone, Kellie. You've won a major victory. Davies is finished. I don't agree with his assessment of McGarrety's character. He's an assassin. One more dead body makes little difference to him.”

“All right,” she said. “I won't go after him alone.”

“It's very important that you wait on this. When Dennis learns you've had anything to do with Davies giving up the race, he'll come after you.”

“I understand, Tom,” Kellie said impatiently. “You're repeating yourself.”

He swore under his breath, unbuckled his seat belt, leaned over and kissed her hard on the mouth. “For an intelligent woman, you're very stupid sometimes. When you're finished here, call me.”

With that, he opened the door, reached into the back for his bag and disappeared into the terminal without looking back.