Page 26 of Hold a Candle

“Thank ye for letting me use yer spare room, Jamie. I appreciate the hospitality.” She started towards the door and Elliott moved aside to allow her out.

Jamie grabbed her hand and swung her around to face him. “I’ll see ye later. Be careful today. Just because the bomber is dead doesn’t mean this is all over,” he urged with a concerned frown. “I’ll check on Luca while ye are working. Call me if there are any new developments.” Then he dropped a kiss on her lips, much to her surprise.

“Aye. I-I will,” she stammered, then blushed as she pulled away and preceded her son out the door.

Watching Elliott and Pauley cross the porch and head around the side of the house to his waiting car in the driveway told Jamie a lot about the young lad. His hand was protectively on his mother’s back and his demeanor was now one of respect and caring. With a satisfied nod, he closed the door.

***

PAULEY STARED OVERat her son. “What did ye say?” Evasive tactics with Elliot wouldn’t work very long because all her kids were just as stubborn as she was.

“I asked if ye were serious about this MacNamara?” he asked, shooting her a quick glance as he backed out of Jamie’s driveway.

“I just met him yesterday,” she protested, not wanting to define her feelings for the wretched man.

“Ye kissed him, and ye let him kiss ye,” he mocked with a smarmy grin. “Was there more to last night than there appeared to be?”

Pauley shot him a disapproving glare. “Nay, and even if there was, it wouldn’t be any business of yers. I don’t have to answer to my children,” she huffed.

He reached over and picked up the bag of cheesy scones and handed it to her, then spoke gruffly. “If there is, I’d be glad to see it. It’s been six years, going on seven, Mum. Ye deserve some happiness. Dad’s been a right nasty jobber to ye. I wish he’d stop drinking.”

Pauley didn’t reply, she just took a bite out of the warm, doughy scone. “Just drive, Elliot,” she ordered while chewing the cheesy goodness.

“Ye never let us talk with our mouths full,” he teased, taking one of the scones for himself. Silence reigned while they both ate.

***

TWENTY MINUTES LATER, Pauley was standing in an alleyway behind The Tasty Skink, a local diner specializing in seafood, staring down at another thug she recognized. He was a friend of Tommie Ruskag named Arthur Blackburn. There was a bullet hole in the back of his head and he was lying on his stomach in the debris near a trash bin on wheels. The alley stank of fishy leftovers and trash that the alley cats had dug out of the bins.

“What makes ye think he’s the one?” she asked Mica, pulling her jacket over her nose.

Natalie peered up at her mother. “There’s part of a rag in his back pocket that matches the rag bits that didn’t burn in the bottle from the house,” she responded.

“Do ye have a time of death?”

“Based on lividity and internal body temp, I’d say he died around midnight last night. I’ll know more when we get him back to the lab.”

Pauley nodded and glanced over at Mica. “This makes two known thugs, who knew each other, to die within 24 hours. Is that just a rotten coincidence, Mica? Or am I imagining things?”

Mica wrinkled his nose. “No doubt there’s something rotten in this alley, that’s a given. But aye, it sure seems a coincidence. Ye sure Luca never left Neamh last night?” he asked facetiously.

Pauley snorted. “Don’t be a smart arse, Mica.”

Both of their cell phones went off at once with a message from Chief Inspector Tannock that he wanted to see them immediately.

“What do ye suppose that’s about?” Pauley asked.

Mica shook his head and dropped his cellphone in his pocket. “Don’t have a clue, lass, but we’d best get going. Ye know how he gets when ye make him wait.”

“Aye, I’ll meet ye there,” Pauley replied.

When Pauley arrived at the station, Mica was just parking and he waited for her at the door. They walked together towards Quinn’s door and then Pauley knocked.

“Come in,” came the gruff order from inside.

When she opened the door, the gloating male by the window had her stopping short in surprise. “Brodie Macalister,” she stated flatly, her eyes narrowing at the satisfaction in his smirking grin. “What are ye doing here? I heard ye were working off a fishing ship,” she taunted, strolling inside and folding her arms across her chest.

There was no denying the triumph in his dark eyes. “I’m sure ye would like that, but as it stands, I’m SDS Macalister to ye,” he replied, flashing his Detective Superintendent Badge. “I’m also working in conjunction with Interpol and the Highland Special Drug Task Force. “I’ll be taking over yer case regarding Ruskag and Blackburn.”

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