Free Malarkey by Sheila Simonson Page A

gave me a reproachful look. He was pale.
    I felt my cheeks burn. "Sergeant Kennedy asked me not
to."
    Barbara snorted. That seemed to be her ingrained response
to Kennedy in his police role. She turned her attention back to the
dead man's sister. "Did they tell you whom they suspect?"
    Kayla ripped a piece of bread in half and slathered it with
butter. "One of the wargamers. Mahon didn't name names." She
snickered. "Slade was playing around with a local girl. Maybe
somebody got jealous."
    Universal shuffling and mumbling. Silverware clanked.
Nobody was meeting anyone else's eyes.
    Incredible as it seemed to me, Kayla had missed Grace's
performance. I wondered whether anyone would bother to tell her
what had happened. I also thought of the motorcyclist, Artie. Had he
been one of Wheeler's toy soldiers? His relationship with Grace was
unclear. Protective? Possessive? He could have been a friend, a lover,
an old schoolmate, though I thought he must have left school several
years before. If he were a significant wargamer, a lieutenant of some
sort, he might have felt a need to protect his dead captain's
woman.
    "Who's Slade's heir?" Mike Novak drooped over his plate
with unconvincing innocence, but the question quivered on the
air.
    "I am." As if aware that her tone registered smugness, Kayla
set the bread down. She dabbed at her eyes and left an unappetizing
black smudge on the linen serviette. "I'm his nearest relative. Our
parents died in a car wreck while Slade was in high school." She
sniffled. "Now I'm alone."
    I made an involuntary soothing noise which she
ignored.
    She picked up her knife and fork and attacked a slice of
capon with bruising energy. "Whoever did it, I hope the cops nail his
hide to the wall. Me and Slade had our differences, but he was my
brother." She speared the meat, American style, and poked it into her
mouth. "Bloody sods."
    We ate in uncomfortable silence. Liam picked at his food. So
did my father. I was wondering how soon we could make a graceful
exit when Maeve reappeared looking cheerful. She was without
police escort.
    Barbara and Alex rose in unison and began fussing over
her.
    Alex poured her a glass of wine. "Where's Joe?"
    "I left him at the station. He said he had to finish a
report."
    "But dinner—"
    "The man can open a tin of beans," Maeve said callously.
"We settled Grace in at the safe house and telephoned Caitlin
Morrissey. The old man was drunk."
    Barbara said, "I hope Grace will be all right."
    "Ah, Flynn's not a bad sort when he's sober. Joe talked with
Grace's mother. I think she understands the, er, situation."
    Barbara did not look reassured.
    "When we left, she was giving Flynn a piece of her mind."
Maeve smiled at her. "Send Caitlin a retainer, if it will make you feel
better. Grace is resilient. She'll be all right." She sat at the table and
dug in.
    "Is that Grace Flynn you're talking about?" Kayla's voice
rasped.
    Maeve raised an eyebrow, fork half-lifted. "I don't believe I
know you, but you must be Miss Wheeler. How d'ye do? I'm Maeve
Butler."
    Kayla scowled at her. "Is it Grace?"
    "Oh, yes." Maeve chewed with appreciative thoroughness
and took a sip of wine. "We've been seeing to the safety and comfort
of your nephew. Or niece." She beamed at Kayla. "What a blessing to
know that your brother's, er, lineage will go on."
    "If she's pregnant," Kayla said flatly, "the brat is not Slade's.
He was a fiend for safe sex."
    "Oh, Grace is safe as houses." Maeve raised her wine glass.
" Slainté, Miss Wheeler."

Chapter 5
    If I was a blackbird I'd whistle and
sing
And I'd follow the vessel my truelove sails in.
    Irish song
    Although we didn't reach Mrs. O'Brien's house until eleven
after the Stanyon Hall Theatricals, Dad and I set out for Ballitore
before noon on Thursday. I decided that postponing the visit to the
Quaker museum would be a bad idea. Dad had remarkable resilience,
but the revelations of the evening had depressed him. I thought his
morale needed a boost. After another