I glanced at her sharply. She was almost right, but not quite. Special Forces in the UK covers a lot more than just 22nd Regiment, but that’s who everybody automatically thinks of. And anyway, I hadn’t made it past the training stage, but I wasn’t about to volunteer that little titbit.
“Well, well,” I murmured. “You have been doing some digging, haven’t you?”
“Like I said, it’s part of the job,” she threw back at me. “So, why would someone like you be assigned if this is just a simple hand-holding exercise?”
I knew explaining about Simone’s money would clarify my position, but I couldn’t do so without clearing it with Simone first. Neagley saw my hesitation and read all manner of things into it-most of which weren’t there. She got to her feet, leaving what remained of her drink on the table.
“No, I’m not a quitter,” she said with quiet vehemence, leaning in. “But if I’m going to continue I want someone watching my back. I’ve called in some people I know-an executive protection firm outta New York who owe me a favor. When I’ve used up their goodwill I’ll be putting their fee onto Miss Kerse’s account. If she doesn’t like it, she can fire me, OK?”
I nodded. She was within her rights to be angry and I knew my silence hadn’t helped.
Neagley pulled a business card out of her pocket. “When you decide to level with me, here’s my cell number,” she said, tossing the card onto the table as she straightened. “And a piece of advice for you, Charlie- watch your back.” And with that she turned and strode out of the bar.
I wasn’t overly surprised when the big guy in the green sports jacket abandoned his drink and strolled out after her. As he went past he inclined his head a fraction, the friendly nod of one professional to another.
Seven
You’re the one on the ground, Charlie,” Sean said. “If you feel you need more people, say the word.” “It’s not a question of that,” I said. “I talked it over with Simone again last night and she won’t have any more people. I spoke to the police here this morning-and getting anything out of them was a bit of a saga-but they’re still adamant that O’Halloran’s accident wasn’t suspicious. In fact, the guy in charge reckoned he’d had a drink or two, which doesn’t help convince them he was bumped off.”
“So you think Neagley’s overreacting?”
I paused a moment before replying. I was in my room overlooking the harbor again, watching the commercial jets angle out of Logan. We’d just had an early breakfast and Simone was getting Ella wrapped up and ready for a trolleybus tour of the city. The concierge, no doubt trying to be helpful, had given Simone all the details. Ella was excited about it and I could hear her high-pitched voice giggling and asking questions through the open doorways to the next room. I shifted the phone to my other ear.
“I don’t know,” I said then. “She’s certainly taken it seriously enough to call in close protection of her own, and Neagley didn’t strike me as the kind of woman who would panic over nothing. This has got her rattled, that’s for sure.”
“Mm,” Sean said. “Armstrong’s are a good firm-head office in New York and very switched on. I’ve worked with the boss, Parker Armstrong, a few times myself. And they’re fair. They wouldn’t take her money unless they thought she needed their services.”
“Which brings us back to Greg Lucas,” I said. “Why didn’t anybody warn me he might react badly to being confronted with his long-lost daughter?”
“At this stage we don’t know how he’ll react. Nothing in the information we were given suggested he would go to those kinds of lengths to avoid being found.”
“Well then,” I said, “I suggest you dig a little deeper. Simone’s determined not to give up looking and, if he’s going to become a threat, I think it would be a good idea if I knew about it sooner rather than later, don’t you?”
After my conversation with Neagley in the bar the night before, I’d gone back up to our rooms to find Simone curled up watching TV on my side, Ella already in bed and dead to the world, poor kid.
Without much of a preamble, I’d given Simone the gist of Neagley’s grievances. For a few moments Simone had sat in silence, feet tucked up underneath her, apparently lost in her thoughts. It was only when she finally spoke that I heard the anger vibrating in her voice and realized she’d been bringing herself up to the boil.
“OK, so my father was in the army-so were you,” she threw at me. “Does that make you both killers?”
I stilled. Don’t go there, Simone.…
When I didn’t answer immediately she took a deep breath and said, quietly but with more bitterness, “Why are you telling me this, Charlie? You want me to give up and go home, is that it?”
“Of course not,” I said, too patiently. It had only inflamed her.
“Tell me something. When did you last see your father, huh?”
“Six months ago,” I said shortly.
She’d already opened her mouth to snap back at me before she registered what I’d said and closed it again. “OK, but that’s your choice, right?” she said, slightly mollified. “You know who and where he is, right?”
“Yes,” I agreed. But that didn’t mean I knew him-not really. My father was one of the top orthopedic surgeons in the UK, and while he might be my biological parent, most of the time I found him a cold aloof stranger. So much so, in fact, that when my short-lived army career had ended in scandal and disgrace I’d shortened my name from Foxcroft to Fox in an attempt to distance myself from him still further. It had been only partially successful.
Sean had never met with my parents’ approval, either. One more thing we had in common. When I’d made the decision to take him up on his job offer and moved down from my home in the north permanently, they’d made a somewhat disappointingly brief bid to talk me out of it, then retreated into a martyred silence that I had not yet felt inclined to break.
I hadn’t even told them I was going back to the States. Partly because I didn’t want to face another argument when I had enough reservations of my own about the trip. But mainly just in case they made no comment on the subject at all. I’m not sure which would have been worse.
Simone’s eyes slid back to the TV screen, but I knew she didn’t see the picture. “I only remember odd fragments of my father,” she said abruptly. “A lullaby, a deep voice sitting by my bed reading Beatrix Potter stories. But I can’t see his face at all.” She looked up, her face defiant, as though I would contradict her. “It’s one of the things that’s been bothering me, since we came out here. Will I recognize him when I finally meet him? My mother never kept any pictures. It’s all this huge blank.”
She shook her head and for a moment I thought she was going to cry, but she swallowed the tears back down again. ‘And now,” she continued in a low voice, “you tell me he might have somehow caused the death of this investigator? What kind of monster would that make him?”
“That’s Neagley’s theory, not mine,” I said quickly. “She’s worried enough to have hired in some additional security. I think perhaps it might be a good idea if you considered doing the same.”
“No,” Simone said without pause for thought.
I took a breath. “I’m not armed, Simone,” I said quietly “I can’t legally carry a gun over here. Maybe, if Neagley’s right, you should think about bringing in someone who can.”
“No. I won’t have guns around Ella.” Simone met my eyes, determined, stubborn. “Looks like you’ll have to do the best you can, Charlie.”
We picked up the trolleybus for our tour of Boston at the stop just outside the Aquarium, retracing our steps along the harbor front to get there. No more snow had fallen since our arrival, but despite the pale sunshine, what was on the ground was showing no signs of melting. Ella still seemed enthralled by it, dragging her mother on a meandering course to inspect the larger piles of the stuff.