Page 23 of Dublin Debacle

Jack’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t remember the attack or us bringing you here?”

The old man shook his head.

“What is the last thing you do remember?” Emily asked.

Paddy O’Brien squeezed his eyes closed. “I was on my way to the pub. You’d called to tell me one of the waitresses couldn’t make it in.” He opened his eyes, his gaze going somewhere between Emily and Jack, not meeting either of theirs. “Then I woke up here.”

Jack couldn’t understand why the old man would lie about what happened. But his body language was telling what his words weren’t.

“Don’t you remember telling us not to take you to the hospital?” Emily persisted.

Her uncle pinched the bridge of his nose. “No.”

“You told me to warn Finn.” Emily shook her head. “Do you remember that?”

For the first time, Paddy O’Brien met Emily’s gaze. “Did you?”

“I tried, but he didn’t respond to my call or text.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Uncle Paddy, what was I supposed to warn him about?”

Paddy looked away. “I can’t remember, but it must have been important if I asked you to warn your brother.”

Jack’s eyes narrowed. “Perhaps we should take your uncle to the hospital and have them run a CT scan. His injuries could be much worse than we thought.”

“No, no.” Paddy held up a hand. “I’m sure I’ll be quite all right, given a day or two to recover. Memory loss is a daily challenge in this old mind.” He faced his niece. “But if I told you to warn Finn, you should. He might know why I would ask you to do it.” He closed his eyes again. “Now, leave me to rest. I have a devilish headache.”

Emily glanced up at Jack, a frown creasing her brow. Then she shrugged and walked out of the room.

Jack followed.

Back in the kitchen, Dr. Kelly slid fried eggs and slices of fried tomatoes out of the skillet onto plates as Atkins stirred the pot full of what Jack would call baked beans.

“Uncle Paddy was awake,” Emily said.

Dr. Kelly set the pan on the stovetop. “I’ll check on him.”

Emily shook her head. “He wanted to rest.”

“Did he seem coherent?” Dr. Kelly asked. “Were his words slurred?”

“No slurring,” Emily said. “He did say that his head hurt.”

“I’ll give him something for pain shortly.” The doctor stepped back, allowing Atkins to drop the requisite scoop of beans on each plate.

“We might as well eat while it’s hot.” Dr. Kelly fished a pitcher of orange juice out of the refrigerator, calling over her shoulder, “Have a seat.”

Jack held out a chair for Emily at the little dinette table.

She sank onto it and scooted forward.

He helped Atkins carry plates full of food to the table and waited for the doctor to take her seat before he sat beside Emily.

After everyone was seated, Atkins placed his hands on the table and looked around at everyone, his gaze coming to rest on Dr. Kelly.

She gave him a hint of a nod.

“Aoife and I agree,” Atkins said without preamble, “that, whatever is happening, we need to keep each other informed of anything that even remotely might pertain to the escalating violence.” He met Jack’s glance. “Yes, she’s fully aware of the propaganda spreading like wildfire. Though we’ve seen signs of the propaganda in the UK, the violence appears concentrated in Dublin.”

Emily nodded. “I asked Uncle Paddy about what happened last night. He claims he doesn’t remember the attack.”

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