Spots of color rose on her cheeks, and she compressed her lips. “Connor, I live and work at Tara. If you think that means I spend my time pressing flowers into books, you are naïve.”
“Where did Amy and I meet?” I asked.
She answered quickly. “Flanagan’s market.”
“Where was I living?”
“With Briallen ab Gwyll. You were staying with your parents that weekend. Your mother sent you to the store.”
“Who spoke first?”
“You did. You asked me whether I liked the crackers you were holding. You were a terribly obvious flirt.”
“What happened next?”
Moira looked down at her hand. “You kissed my hand. It was very sweet. Then you asked if I would like to have a cup of tea with you sometime. I said yes, thinking that would end the flirtation, but you asked to go right then. So we did.”
“Was it raining or snowing?”
“Neither. It was supposed to rain. I left my umbrella in the shop.”
She knew all the right answers—even the umbrella, which I had forgotten about. I went back later to find it for her, but it wasn’t there. “You could have gotten those answers from the real Amy Sullivan.”
She nodded. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right. But if I weren’t Amy Sullivan, would I know what it felt like to meet this brilliant young man at the beginning of his career who was so excited and nervous to start training with Nigel Martin? Would I know how lonely I felt and how that young man made me want adventure again? Would I have turned my life upside down because of him and left Boston in shame?”
That gave me pause. Amy stopped coming to see me, then disappeared. “What do you mean ‘shame’?”
Moira looked away from me and gazed out the window. “My husband found out.”
I moved to the open door of my apartment. “Amy Sullivan wasn’t married.”
She stood. “I was, Connor. You didn’t know everything about me. You didn’t even know where I lived. I lied to my husband about many things, and he threw me out. It was a blessing, though. I wasn’t made for married life. I went back to Ireland and the Druidic College and never looked back.”
“Until now,” I said. The vestibule door downstairs slammed shut, and I heard someone walking up the stairs.
She shook her head. “Not even now. Maeve knows nothing about my past as Amy. She sent me here to do a job. I have no intention of letting my husband or anyone else know Amy Sullivan has returned. I thought the Wheel of the World had given me a fortunate turn when you walked into Eagan’s house. You were a secret in my old life, and I thought we could be friends again because no one here would ever connect Moira Cashel and Connor Grey. I guess I was wrong.”
“You’re damned right. If it will help, tell Maeve I believed you, but I wasn’t interested.”
The footsteps on the stairs were louder as Moira moved toward me. She shifted into the Amy Sullivan glamour and caressed my face with a gloved hand. “Do you believe me, Connor?”
I didn’t answer for a moment. She looked like Amy—even smelled like her. It would have been nice to think it was her. But Moira Cashel was a member of Maeve’s court, and Amy was a part of my life that had nothing to do with all the twists and turns that life had taken. And I didn’t want her to be in it now. “It was over twenty years ago, Moira. It doesn’t matter anymore. Leave it alone. Leave me alone.”
She searched my face, a hint of moisture in her eyes. “The Wheel of the World turns differently for all of us, Connor. I don’t know where It’s taken you, but you aren’t the person I remember.”
“Neither are you,” I said.
As the footsteps came closer, Murdock’s body signature registered in my sense. By the quick tilt of her head, Moira sensed him, too. Moira dropped the Amy glamour before he reached the last flight. He saw the open apartment door and paused on the final steps. His face looked intrigued when he saw Moira. “I can come back,” he said.
“Moira Cashel, this is Detective Lieutenant Leonard Murdock,” I said.
Moira stepped into the outside hall and gripped the stair rail.
Murdock nodded. “Ma’am.”
Moira moved to the head of the stairs as Murdock reached the top step. Our conversation had upset her. She paled as Murdock passed. “How do you do?” she said in almost a whisper.
With his back to her, Murdock frowned at me. “Fine, thanks.”
“Thanks for stopping by, Moira. It was interesting,” I said.
Her eyes shifted back to me. Without another word, she descended the stairs. Murdock watched over the railing.
“I’ll be right back,” I said. I went into the apartment and grabbed my coat. I checked that I had my cell and wallet, then pulled the apartment door closed. Murdock continued looking down the stairs as I locked up. I didn’t hear any more footsteps. “What are you looking at?” I asked.
He had a pensive look on his face. “Nothing. Everything okay?”
Murdock preceded me down the stairs two steps ahead. “I think a certain homicide detective was worried about me.”
“No, I wasn’t,” he said.
I laughed. “Oh, you got out of your nice warm car and walked up five flights for the hell of it? Sure, you did.”
He smirked over his shoulder. “I saw the town car downstairs with diplomatic plates. It wouldn’t be the first time you ran into trouble with the Guild.”
“And it won’t be the last time,” I said.
“Who was the woman?”
“I’m not really sure. She’s trying to cure whatever’s killing Manus ap Eagan and is claiming to be someone I knew when I was starting out.”
Murdock pulled open the vestibule door to reveal the first few flakes of another snowstorm. In the dark, his car actually looked good for a change. No town car was in sight.
“Do you believe her?”
I shrugged. “Nope. Mostly, I think she’s a spy from the Seelie Court.”
I sat on a nest of napkins on the passenger seat while Murdock jogged to the driver’s side. He pulled out onto the street. “She had dinner with my father the other night,” he said.
“Really? Curiouser and curiouser.”
He nodded. “My father asked me to pick him up at a restaurant. They came out together.”
“How the hell do they know each other?” I asked.
Murdock shrugged. “He said she was Guild business.”
I pursed my lips. Eagan said she was a spy. Despite her claims otherwise, Moira Cashel was up to something more than ministering to a sick Danann. “I know it isn’t like me to worry about your father, but I would tell him to be careful around her.”
He smirked. “Will do, concerned citizen.”
“Interesting coincidence,” I said.
“Small world,” he said.
“Yeah, with small people in it.”
12
The Office of the City Medical Examiner was a long name for a sad place. At night, it was even sadder, a brick building perpetually clothed in gray twilight on a desolate stretch of road. It was open twenty-fours a day, seven days a week. Death made its own appointments, and the city morgue waited like a patient suitor for a date.
In the cool basement, steam rose from Murdock’s coffee. He leaned against a counter, not looking like he’d been up all night. The accident that boosted his essence had boosted his energy levels, too. Not that he needed it. Murdock’s stamina was legendary. As a police officer, he had spent more than enough time on dull surveillance, which came in handy for him since he’d been watching Janey Likesmith and me work through the night. Occasionally, we needed an extra pair of hands, but for the most part he watched.
The OCME handled all the deaths in the city and transferred major fey cases to the Guild only at the Guild’s request. As the lone fey staff member at OCME, Janey worked the rest. All of them. She had to pick and choose which ones to give more attention to than others. Who the decedent was or who they knew or how much money they had in life didn’t matter to her. Producing the best examination results did.
Janey was a dark elf, a member of the Dokkheim clan. The dark elves acknowledged the Elven King, but most of them went their own way in the post-Convergence world. They had never been strong enough to challenge the Teutonic court, but they were skilled enough to have influence over it.