Meanwhile, he was curious about Julie, since it was her soon-to-be-ex husband who worked at the jewelry store where the theft had taken place. Kieran had said she’d only been there because of Julie.
“She’s been very helpful with our case,” Craig said. “She was there that day to see your ex-husband, right?”
“He’s been behaving like a real bastard,” Kevin said.
It looked to Craig as if Kevin was staring at Julie distrustfully, as if he was worried what she might say.
But Julie didn’t seem to notice. She turned to Craig and said, “He nearly killed our dogs! Well, my dogs now. I have a pair of rescue greyhounds. Benji and Sally. They’re so sweet and so beautiful, and he locked them in their crates and left them without food or water.”
“You should have called animal control. It’s illegal to abuse animals,” Craig said.
“I didn’t want them taken away. I just wanted them to be okay. As soon as I got back I gave them food and water, bathed them and washed out their crates. But I was still so mad.”
“And since Kieran’s degree is in psychology,” Kevin said quickly, “she went to the store, hoping to see Gary and talk him into behaving like an adult.”
“You can’t even imagine everything he’s done,” Julie murmured.
Craig was afraid he was going to hear about all of it.
He was half listening to Julie go on about how badly Gary was behaving and watching Kieran at the same time. He wondered if she’d taken her bartending expertise and used it when working on her psychology degree or if she’d used her interest in psychology as a bartender. Whichever. She was good with the customers—many of them obviously regulars—friendly and efficient without disrupting their private conversations. She spent a fair amount of time talking with an older man at the bar who seemed to be drinking nothing but soda and lime.
But suddenly everything about her changed. She stiffened, and her smile froze.
She appeared to be reacting to a group who’d just approached the bar, two men and a young blonde with huge breasts and a very low-cut blouse that displayed them to their best advantage.
Silicone, he thought.
The younger of the two men was tall, but not overly so. He had wavy dark hair and wore a well-tailored dark blue suit. His arm was draped casually around the woman’s shoulders, his hand dangling near her breasts. The older man had slicked-back silver hair and looked like an aging athlete; he was equally well dressed in a designer suit. They were talking and laughing as they waited for their turn to order.
Suddenly the young man looked up and saw the way Kieran was looking at him. He jerked his head, as if to indicate that he was with the older man and had no choice but to be there.
Gary. That had to be the nasty almost-ex, Gary Benton.
His assumption was proved true when Julie looked up and let out a gasp. Kevin grasped her hand, either to comfort her or to keep her from leaping to her feet and attacking.
Kieran stepped around from behind the bar to speak directly to the trio.
He couldn’t hear their conversation over the music, but the older man was nodding, while the younger man had reddened and was clearly unhappy.
The blonde woman tossed her hair back petulantly.
“The nerve! How could he come in here?” Julie said, her voice thick with unshed tears. “And with his...bimbo!”
“Just calm down, Julie, please,” Kevin said. “We can’t throw him out—there are laws and all—though, believe me, we’d be happy to kick him out if we could.”
Danny, working the floor, had noticed the trio, too, and was moving in their direction.
“You stay here with Agent Frasier, Julie,” Kevin commanded as he rose, then hurried to cut off his brother.
“You really can’t give him a right jab to the jaw, Julie. You don’t want me to have to cart you off for assault, do you?” Craig said, trying to make her smile.
She stared at him with sad brown eyes. “Would you really arrest me?”
“I’m an agent, not a cop, but I’m still sworn to uphold the law,” he told her. He took her hand and held it tightly. “Look at me. Just...talk to me. Tell me, what do you do for a living?”
“Huh? What?” Julie asked.
He smiled. “What kind of work do you do?”
“Oh, I’m a game designer.”
“A game designer? That sounds exciting. What games?”
“I, uh, work with a team. I guess our most popular game is ‘Dargon the Dragon Slayer.’”
“One of my favorites,” he assured her.
“You play video games?”
“Love to play. When I can, that is.” While he’d been talking to Julie, he’d still been watching Kieran, her brothers and Gary and his friends.
Kevin had blocked Danny before he could reach the threesome and was talking animatedly to his younger brother.
Declan, oldest and clearly the master of the house, had just entered from the back room, rolling a keg. He stopped to watch what was going on.
Kieran was still talking earnestly to Gary and his companions.
And it seemed her strategy had been successful because the men were leaving. The older man was shaking his head, and now Gary looked angry as well as embarrassed. The woman tossed her hair petulantly again.
They were on their way to the door when Gary saw Julie. For a moment he looked at her with loathing. Then he noticed Craig, and his eyes widened, his mouth tightening. He shook his head and mouthed the word “Bitch.”
He didn’t actually say it to Julie, but it was said just loud enough for her to hear.
Craig rose, staring him in the eyes. “Friend, that kind of language isn’t appropriate.”
He knew he had the man by several inches, and Gary, too, seemed to realize that Craig was taller and bigger and undoubtedly tougher all around.
The older man urged Gary Benton away, and the three of them left the pub.
Craig saw Declan breathe a visible sigh and start rolling his keg again. Someone at the bar called out that they were getting parched. Kieran hurried back behind the bar.
Julie’s hand trembled in Craig’s. Then, suddenly, she rose and threw her arms around him. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”
He disentangled himself gently. “It was nothing. But you have to learn to ignore him.”
“I know, and believe me, I’ve tried,” Julie whispered. “He just keeps sliding the knife in deeper and deeper.”
He wished he knew what to say to that. “Try feeling sorry for him,” he suggested.
“Sorry? For him? Why?”
“Because he’s so messed up that he isn’t able to behave any way except badly. And because he’s clearly incredibly stupid if he left a woman as sweet and pretty as you.”
“Thank you. It’s just scary to suddenly be alone.”
“Julie, I know you’ve heard all this, but the right person is out there. You’ll find him. Like I said, you’re pretty and sweet, so learn to like yourself. Then you’ll know when a guy like Gary is just being a jerk.”
He flushed suddenly, aware that Kieran was standing beside their table.
He fought bad guys; he wasn’t a therapist. Was she going to think he was an idiot for trying to give advice?
But she was smiling at him.
“I keep telling her that. Maybe she’ll believe it coming from you,” she said.
He shrugged and said, “How come no one’s been by to take our order?” He looked at Julie and whispered with a wink, “Service kind of sucks here, huh?”
“Just part of the charm,” Kieran assured him. “Don’t worry. Rory, our chef, knows you’re here. He’s sending out something special.”
He saw that she was smiling as she turned and headed back toward the bar. A moment later Che
f Rory O’Bannon himself came out bearing three plates. His best Guinness pie, he told them. He was a big, florid man, but not overly heavy, perhaps forty-five or fifty, with a quick smile.
“The finest you’ll have this side o’ County Cork,” he assured them. Then he frowned suddenly. “You’re not one of those vegetarians, are you, sir?” he asked Craig.
“Not at all, and this looks delicious,” Craig assured him.
“And you, missy,” Rory said, looking at Julie. “You’re as lovely as the dew on the Emerald Isle. Don’t be letting that damned fool steal another moment of your happiness.”
“I won’t,” Julie promised, “and thank you.”
Rory tipped his head and left.
Craig assumed Kevin would be coming back. To his surprise, he glanced over to the bar and saw Kieran hand her bar towel to her twin and head back over to the table instead.
“It’s really stew in a pastry crust,” she explained, sliding onto the seat next to Julie.
“I’ve actually had Guinness pie before,” he assured her. “Not as good as this, I’m certain, but I have had it.”
Julie turned to Kieran. “What did you say to him? To get him to leave, I mean.”
“I actually appealed to Jimmy McManus, the man he came in with,” Kieran said. “I said that you were here this evening and feeling a bit down, and then I asked him nicely if they might go somewhere else for the evening.”
“Jimmy’s a decent guy,” Julie said.
Kieran looked across the table to Craig. “Thank you. I saw what you did.” She smiled. “All you had to do was stand up. Good show.”
Craig shrugged, a little uncomfortable. “I just asked him not to use certain language. My mother taught me never to suffer fools. And my dad came from a very tall family of Highlanders. Height always helps.”
“You were wonderful,” Julie breathed.
Kieran looked down at her plate—hiding a little smile, he thought. She also seemed glad to have the attention on him rather than on her.
“I have to say, Rory was right. This is the best Guinness pie this side of County Cork,” Craig said.
An attractive young couple approached their table just then, apologizing for interrupting, then telling Kieran how proud of her they were.
Thirty seconds after they left, an older woman came by, saying, “‘Any decent person would lend a hand.’ Nice, Kieran. I don’t know what this city is coming to—girls being pushed in subways, men killing people who don’t even fight back over diamonds. Diamonds! Just rocks. Wretched things. I hope they catch those bastards soon.”
“We all hope so, Lorna,” Kieran said.
The woman bade them good-night and left, but only after studying Craig curiously.
“I should have introduced you,” Kieran said to him. “How rude of me. I’m sorry.”
He shook his head. “No, I’m glad you didn’t. I’d just as soon stay anonymous. If you do introduce me to anyone, just use my name—say I’m a friend. Tell people you’re with the FBI and suddenly they’re afraid to say anything.”
He thought he saw Kieran color a little. “Only the guilty ones,” she said.
Julie smiled. “Hey, see the three guys over there at the far booth? Grooving to the music? They’re some of New York’s finest. This place is always filled with cops. New York has a lot of Irish cops, you know. Irish descent, at any rate.”
“You’re Irish, too?” Craig asked her.
“My dad,” Julie said, rolling her eyes. “I was a Jameson—no relation to the whiskey Jameson’s, I’m afraid.”
The white-haired man who seemed to be a fixture at the bar with his soda and lime suddenly rose and came over to them. “Mind if I join you for a spell?” he asked, his brogue rich.
“Of course not,” Kieran said. “Have you two met? Bobby O’Leary, this is my friend Craig Frasier.”
“Frasier, eh?” Bobby said.
“Yes, sir, how do you do?” Craig shook the man’s hand.
“Scotsman, eh?”
“My father’s father, yes.”
“You’re that FBI agent.”
“Yes,” Craig said.
He was always in control, Kieran thought. But she saw his mouth tighten a bit and realized he wasn’t pleased that he was known to be with the FBI.
“Saw you on the television with Kieran here. Scary thing. She’s precious to us. Glad you were there for her.”
“Actually, sir, she saved me.”
“From a water pistol,” Kieran said quickly.
“Still, we had no idea we weren’t dealing with killers,” Craig said.
“I think I was just functioning on adrenaline. Besides, I have a feeling you would have Rambo-ed your way out of the situation eventually,” she told him.
Bobby wagged a finger at them both. “You be careful now, you hear? This is no joking matter. Those killers out there are real. Now you, sir, you’re trained for this. Kieran, you may be a hero, your face plastered all over the papers, but you take care, lass, take great care. There’s no Finnegan’s without you, you know.”
He rose to leave them.
“Bobby’s one of our oldest customers,” Kieran said.
“He’s quite observant,” Craig remarked.
“He’s been in recovery for years,” Julie added.
“Must be hard, spending as much time in a pub as he does.”
“Pubs aren’t just bars,” Kieran said. “Pubs are meeting places.”
“Whoa, I wasn’t attacking the place!” Craig said, lifting a hand. “This is my new favorite hangout.”
Her smile faded. She looked uneasy.
Julie didn’t notice. “Rory outdid himself tonight,” she said. “This is delicious.”
By the time they were finishing, the pretty young Irishwoman, Mary Kathleen, Declan’s red-haired fiancée, came hurrying over to them.
“Julie, I know you’ve been wanting to move, and I have the perfect solution for you,” she said, flushing with pleasure.
“What is it?” Julie asked.
“My flat,” Mary Kathleen said. “I’m never there.” She glanced over at Kieran, blushing, a pretty sight given the fairness of her skin. “I’m with Declan all the time. Me toothbrush is there, you know? My place allows dogs. There’s a wee bedroom and a parlor, and a nice big kitchen. You and the pups would be gloriously happy there.”
“Oh, I couldn’t!” Julie said.
“You could,” Kieran told her. “It’s perfect for you. It’s right by the fire station on Reed Street, a great neighborhood, very safe.”
“I can help you get your things in the morning, if you can take a few hours off work,” Mary Kathleen said. “In fact, you can come home with me tonight and we’ll get started packing up me things.”
“Won’t Declan be upset you’re not going home with him tonight?” Julie asked.
“He’ll be thrilled—he was the one who came up with this idea,” Mary Kathleen said.
“Where are you living now?” Craig asked.
“At the apartment Gary and I still share,” Julie said. “We avoid each other as much as we can. He ignores me and the dogs, I ignore him. We try to come and go at different times. I wanted to move in with my parents temporarily, but their building doesn’t allow dogs. I haven’t found anything else I can afford, and Gary refuses to leave.”
“And you’re not afraid Gary will...try something?” Craig asked.
“Oh, Gary is hateful, but he’s not violent,” Julie said. “He says things, but he’s never touched me or hurt me physically in any way.”
That could change in a split second, Craig knew.
“Go home with Mary Kathleen tonight,” he said. “Please.”
“But the dogs...” Julie said.
“We’ll
go get the dogs right now,” Kieran said, rising. “I’ll borrow Declan’s car.”
Julie paled. “What if he’s there tonight—after this?”
“I’ll take you,” Craig said decisively as he stood.
What the hell was he doing? He was getting far more involved than he’d intended. He’d meant to keep watch over Kieran. He hadn’t meant to become a member of the damned extended family.
“Oh, no, we can’t ask you to do that,” Kieran protested.
Her protest suddenly solidified his determination to help when only a moment ago he’d been wishing he’d never spoken.
“Let’s go,” he said.
A few minutes later he was driving down Broadway to Canal and planning to cut over to the West Village.
CHAPTER
EIGHT
IT WASN’T A long drive at all, but the whole time Craig kept wondering what the hell he was doing.
He wasn’t a by-the-book guy in the sense that Marty was; he was by nature careful and thoughtful. He made sure he knew what he was doing, and when he chose a direction and moved forward, he always had a reason.
This was crazy.
He wasn’t a therapist.
Or a bodyguard.
And yet he had wedged himself into the middle of a nasty divorce.
But what the hell else could he have done? As Kieran had said, any decent person would lend a hand.
He was glad that she was along for the ride, too. He was still inexplicably on edge about her after watching the surveillance tapes from the subway.
As he drove, he couldn’t stop keeping an eye out for people in hoodies. Unsurprisingly, there were lots of them.
Julie’s apartment wasn’t too far over from Kieran’s place. She and Gary had the basement of a beautiful old brownstone. Craig remembered reading that the basements of the nineteenth-century row houses had originally been servants’ quarters.
The apartment might once have been the servants’ quarters, but the servants had been given plenty of space. And Julie Benton had a flair for decoration. The walls held animation stills from her work, charming dragons and medieval fantasy sorcerers, knights in battle and more. There were collectible superhero action figures here and there, and plenty of twenty-first-century comforts. The television screen looked to be a good seventy inches; the cabinets surrounding it were filled with high-end sound equipment, controllers, remotes and more. Modernist lamps and mirrors completed the decor.