Twanged (29 page)

“Hey, partner,” Chuck said into the microphone. “It looks like we have more excitement.”

Regan and Chappy ran over to the side of the stage. Malachy was standing in the wings.

Regan tapped him on the back. “Malachy,” she whispered. “I’ve got something I’d like you to give Brigid.” She handed him the magic fiddle.

Malachy winkled at her. “Ah, Regan,” he replied. “You’re grand.” He walked out and handed it to Brigid.

Brigid jumped for joy when the fiddle was back in her arms. She embraced Malachy and then held up the fiddle for the crowd.

“It looks like Brigid has her fiddle back,” Brad said as the crowd went wild.

“The magic fiddle you’ve heard so much about was a lost fiddle for a while today,” she said. “But thanks to my friend Regan Reilly, it’s back.”

The crowd cheered again.

“I’d love to have my friend Malachy here play a duet with me, but his other fiddle was stolen in Ireland, and we haven’t gotten that one back yet.”

“Yes, you have,” Chappy cried, running onstage with Tootsie under one arm, the fiddle under the other. “It’s right here.” He handed it to Malachy.

“Well, thank you,” Brigid said.

No thanks to him, Regan thought with a smile.

“Well, folks, we have a real treat for you tonight,” Brad announced as Regan and Chappy walked around to join the group seated in front of the stage. “We have Malachy Sheerin, the former all-Ireland fiddle champion, who will play a song with Brigid O’Neill, the little girl he taught to play when she was thirteen years old.”

The crowd roared its approval.

Nora looked at Regan with a puzzled expression as she sat down with Chappy. “Don’t ask,” Regan urged as she turned to watch Malachy and Brigid standing side by side, playing together, just as they’d done so many times over the years, across the sea in that little town in Ireland.

And when Kieran and Brigid started singing “If I’da Known You Were in Jail,” she saw another kind of magic. A magic between the two of them that cast a spell. A spell that despite the efforts of two crazy people, just couldn’t be broken.

I have the feeling they’ll be making music together for a long time, Regan thought.

53

TUESDAY, JULY 8
ELAINE’S RESTAU RANT, NEW YORK CITY

R
egan sat at the large table at Elaine’s and looked around at the whole group. There was certainly lots to celebrate.

Brigid and Kieran were sitting together, Kieran’s arm firmly around her chair. Everyone could tell they were in love. “I felt such an obligation to Pammy,” he’d said. “But finally I realized I couldn’t do it anymore. I had to be with Brigid.”

It must have eased his guilt considerably to find out she was a killer, Regan thought. To think that
she
had written the letters, hacked up the doll, and left the mangled cassette. Talk about being out of control.

Luke and Nora were down at the other end of the table with Louisa and Herbert. No doubt, Louisa and her computer were heroes, Regan thought. If she hadn’t stopped me with that letter from the Web, it would have been curtains for Brigid. Louisa was thrilled that she’d received several offers for her as-yet unwritten story about her exciting week in the Hamptons.

Pammy, Peace Man, Bettina, and the egg-loving stalker, Horace Helm, all were behind bars, where they had quite a different view from the one they had enjoyed the week before at the Chappy Compound. The two high school kids who’d tried to steal the fiddle were locked up as well.

Only Horace Helm was worth pitying. Regan was surprised to find out the reason he first had ended up in jail—stealing chickens. If nothing else, he’s a practical kind of guy, she thought.

Regan looked over at Chappy. Thanks to the generosity of Brigid and Malachy, Chappy and Duke were not sharing the fate of the other criminals. As a matter of fact, Brigid had struck a deal.

“I’ve talked this over with Malachy,” Brigid had said. “This fiddle has certainly been wonderful, but it’s also caused me a lot of problems. Seeing as I’ve certainly faced death, more than once, we’re both starting to believe in its curse. We think it should go back to Ireland where it belongs. So I won’t press charges, Chappy, if you fund the building of a music school in the West of Ireland. The fiddle will remain where there’ll be no curse on it! It will be brought out each year for the top student to play. That way its music will play on and the young musicians will get a chance to share in its luck. And of course the school will be named after Malachy.”

“Anything!” Chappy had cried. “Anything!”

Brigid had told Duke that she wanted him to do community service in New York City in the fall. He was sitting across the table next to Angela, who, when she’d found out about the celebratory party, had managed to get herself invited.

Who knows? Regan thought. Maybe those two will be good for each other.

They’d all been to the taping of Conan O’Brien’s show and in the morning had listened to Brigid on Imus’s radio program. Imus had teased her about the lengths she’d go to get a boyfriend. “You had this Pammy woman thrown in jail?” he’d said.

Malachy was seated with Hank and Teddy, enjoying a rousing discussion of country music. Kit was sitting near Regan and Brad and Chuck from the radio station. Brigid had wanted them along, and they’d been thrilled.

“We feel like we’re a part of Brigid’s adventures in the Hamptons,” Chuck said.

“That’s right, partner,” Brad agreed.

Finally, Ned and Claudia were sitting near Chappy. Because Ned had moved that fateful couch, Chappy’s life had been saved. Now she could hear Ned saying for the umpteenth time, “If it hadn’t been for the practice of feng shui, that door would never have been partially open and Tootsie wouldn’t have been barking and . . .”

Tootsie was out in the limo on Second Avenue waiting for the proverbial doggie bag.

The restaurant was bustling, filled with celebrities, many of whom stopped at their table, offering congratulations to Brigid and the band. Nora and Luke had been there many times over the years for dinner and book parties and were glad to be back. Elaine had added to the festivities by sending over champagne.

To think that that fiddle is what brought us all together! Regan thought. In one way or another! It might have a curse on it when it’s in this country, but it definitely did us at least some good. Especially Chappy. It was a blessing for him. If he hadn’t stolen it, Bettina might have succeeded in doing him in.

Chappy cleared his throat. “If you don’t mind, everyone, I would like to make a toast.”

They all turned and looked at him. He held up his glass. “I want to make a toast to Brigid. First of all, to err is human, to forgive divine. And Brigid is divine.”

“Hear! Hear!” they murmured.

“And,” Chappy continued, “I want to take this opportunity to invite everyone back to the Chappy Compound next Fourth of July for the opening of Chappy’s Theatre by the Sea. . . .”

God help us, Regan thought.

Chappy turned to Brigid. “If I promised to practice every day for the next year, would you come back and play onstage with me just once?” he asked.

Brigid smiled and raised her glass. “What do you think, Regan? Does that sound safe to you?”

Not for the audience, Regan thought. She laughed. “We’ll all be sitting in the front row!”