Irishman's eyes. "I told him to find a rainbow and follow it to a pot of gold."
Will smiled in spite of his tension. Eddie O'Shea enjoyed keeping his pub, but he wasn't one to suffer fools or intruders gladly. And he liked Keira and Simon. But who didn't?
Eddie continued mopping the bar with his wet cloth. "Did we do the right thing after all, Will, in letting our black-haired woman go?"
"You're worried about her," Will said.
"What if she's in over her head and a danger to herself? To others? We could have stopped her, Lord Will." The barman stood back and dropped the cleaning cloth into the sink, then got a dry one and soaked up the excess water on the gleaming bar. "Not without a fight, I'll wager, one I'm not sure we'd have won. She knows how to put her foot to the right spot on a man, I'll say that. I could see it when she came in here." He motionedtoward the pegs by the front door. "The way she took off her jacket and hung it...Never mind the rest."
"From what I witnessed," Will said, "I'd guess she's received training."
"Of your sort?"
He let Eddie's question slide unanswered.
"Is that why you let her go?" Eddie's eyes shone with both amusement and suspicion. "A strapping Brit like yourself, worrying a tiny woman would best you."
"She'd just bested an armed, hired killer."
"Ah. You wouldn't stand a chance, would you?"
Will pictured her at the fire with Keira's book of folktales and smiled. "I didn't say that." He passed a business card that Josie had made up for him in London across the bar. "Call me anytime. For any reason."
"And the same, Lord Will. You call me anytime. I'll do whatever I can to help." Eddie took Will's empty mug and set it in the sink. "Who's the Brit you're thinking I saw?"
Will knew he couldn't answer. A lie, the truth--neither was acceptable, and so he said nothing.
Eddie seemed to understand the line his question had crossed. "If I see him again?"
"If you see him again," Will said carefully, "treat him like a shopkeeper who's here on holiday."
"Or he'll kill me in my sleep?"
Josie Goodwin answered from the door. "It won't matter if you're asleep," she said as she unzipped her coat, its style more suited to London than a quiet Irish village. She walked over to the bar, steady if visibly shaken. "I came as soon as I could. I'll be of more use here than in London should Keira need a hand,and perhaps I can persuade our garda friends to share information. I miss the city already. It's bloody dark out there."
A strongly built, attractive woman in her late thirties, she was as pale as Will had ever seen her. He'd been aware of her presence in the door, but he didn't know how much she'd overheard. He started to introduce her to Eddie, but the Irishman put up a hand to stop him. "I'll leave you two to your chat. I can see I won't be wanting to hear what you have to say."
As he retreated, Will felt Josie's emotions, checked, under control but there. "Josie," he said, "we don't know--"
She cut him off neatly. "Let me just say my piece and get it done. You should go back to London, Will. Leave this mess to the Americans and the Irish to sort out."
"You've more on our mystery woman?"
"Her name is Lizzie Rush." Josie eased onto the tall bar stool next to Will. "She's one of the hotelier Rushes. She's in charge of their concierge and excursion services and leads quite an adventurous life."
"What's her connection to Simon?"
"She was with Norman Estabrook in Montana the day he was arrested. The FBI questioned her but didn't detain her."
"Are she and Estabrook romantically involved?"
"No. Absolutely not, according to what little I have managed to learn. He liked having attractive, successful people around him. She was one of them."
"Does she have a connection to John March?"
Josie sighed. "I'm still digging."
"March would use anyone to get what he wants."
"He's a suffering father right now, Will."
"I know. The man's in an impossible position."
"He often is." Obviously restless, she
Will smiled in spite of his tension. Eddie O'Shea enjoyed keeping his pub, but he wasn't one to suffer fools or intruders gladly. And he liked Keira and Simon. But who didn't?
Eddie continued mopping the bar with his wet cloth. "Did we do the right thing after all, Will, in letting our black-haired woman go?"
"You're worried about her," Will said.
"What if she's in over her head and a danger to herself? To others? We could have stopped her, Lord Will." The barman stood back and dropped the cleaning cloth into the sink, then got a dry one and soaked up the excess water on the gleaming bar. "Not without a fight, I'll wager, one I'm not sure we'd have won. She knows how to put her foot to the right spot on a man, I'll say that. I could see it when she came in here." He motionedtoward the pegs by the front door. "The way she took off her jacket and hung it...Never mind the rest."
"From what I witnessed," Will said, "I'd guess she's received training."
"Of your sort?"
He let Eddie's question slide unanswered.
"Is that why you let her go?" Eddie's eyes shone with both amusement and suspicion. "A strapping Brit like yourself, worrying a tiny woman would best you."
"She'd just bested an armed, hired killer."
"Ah. You wouldn't stand a chance, would you?"
Will pictured her at the fire with Keira's book of folktales and smiled. "I didn't say that." He passed a business card that Josie had made up for him in London across the bar. "Call me anytime. For any reason."
"And the same, Lord Will. You call me anytime. I'll do whatever I can to help." Eddie took Will's empty mug and set it in the sink. "Who's the Brit you're thinking I saw?"
Will knew he couldn't answer. A lie, the truth--neither was acceptable, and so he said nothing.
Eddie seemed to understand the line his question had crossed. "If I see him again?"
"If you see him again," Will said carefully, "treat him like a shopkeeper who's here on holiday."
"Or he'll kill me in my sleep?"
Josie Goodwin answered from the door. "It won't matter if you're asleep," she said as she unzipped her coat, its style more suited to London than a quiet Irish village. She walked over to the bar, steady if visibly shaken. "I came as soon as I could. I'll be of more use here than in London should Keira need a hand,and perhaps I can persuade our garda friends to share information. I miss the city already. It's bloody dark out there."
A strongly built, attractive woman in her late thirties, she was as pale as Will had ever seen her. He'd been aware of her presence in the door, but he didn't know how much she'd overheard. He started to introduce her to Eddie, but the Irishman put up a hand to stop him. "I'll leave you two to your chat. I can see I won't be wanting to hear what you have to say."
As he retreated, Will felt Josie's emotions, checked, under control but there. "Josie," he said, "we don't know--"
She cut him off neatly. "Let me just say my piece and get it done. You should go back to London, Will. Leave this mess to the Americans and the Irish to sort out."
"You've more on our mystery woman?"
"Her name is Lizzie Rush." Josie eased onto the tall bar stool next to Will. "She's one of the hotelier Rushes. She's in charge of their concierge and excursion services and leads quite an adventurous life."
"What's her connection to Simon?"
"She was with Norman Estabrook in Montana the day he was arrested. The FBI questioned her but didn't detain her."
"Are she and Estabrook romantically involved?"
"No. Absolutely not, according to what little I have managed to learn. He liked having attractive, successful people around him. She was one of them."
"Does she have a connection to John March?"
Josie sighed. "I'm still digging."
"March would use anyone to get what he wants."
"He's a suffering father right now, Will."
"I know. The man's in an impossible position."
"He often is." Obviously restless, she
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