Stone Cold

the exterior of a large house for sale. It was four lots down from where Annabelle’s mother had gotten a bullet fired into her brain courtesy of Jerry Bagger.

“It’s adorable, Dad,” Annabelle cooed as they surveyed the tumbledown place. “I can’t understand why no one has snatched it up.”

“First of all, it’s not little. And second, it obviously needs some work,” Stone said firmly.

“Come on, Dad,” Annabelle said. “It’s oceanfront. You’ve been looking a long time and never found anything worth writing home about. Can’t you see yourself retiring here? Just look at those views.”

He turned to the Realtor. “The place at the end of the street on the right is a real beaut and in great condition. Know whether they’re interested in selling?”

“The MacIntoshes? No, I don’t think they want to sell.”

Annabelle said, “MacIntoshes? That doesn’t sound familiar. But I did know some folks that used to live up here. Well, I didn’t really know them, friend of a friend thing. Visited them once; that’s why we’re up here looking, actually. I remember it being so pretty.”

“I’ve been here a long time, do you remember their names?”

Annabelle pretended to think. “Connor, or Conway. No, Conroy, that’s right, Conroy.”

“Not Tammy Conroy?” the Realtor said sharply.

“I think so, yes. Now I remember. A tall, thin woman with red hair.”

The Realtor looked flustered. “Tammy Conroy, oh dear. You’re sure?”

“Why, is something wrong?” Annabelle said.

“How well did you know her?”

“Like I said, friend of a friend. Why?”

“Well, I guess you’ll find out sooner or later. Some years ago Tammy Conroy was killed in a little cottage that used to be on the site of the MacIntosh house.”

“Killed!” Annabelle clutched Stone’s arm.

Stone said, “When you say killed, do you mean by accident?”

“Actually no, she was, well, she was murdered.” The woman added quickly, “But we’ve never had another murder since. This is really a very safe place.”

“Did they catch whoever did it?” Annabelle asked.

The Realtor looked even more uncomfortable. “Actually, no, they never caught the person.”

Stone said, “Hell, he could still be out there waiting to kill again. Maybe he has a fixation on this neighborhood. Stranger things have happened.”

“I don’t think that was the case,” the Realtor said. “Before the woman who was killed owned it, an elderly widow lived there. She died of old age and her son sold the place to Mrs. Conroy. In fact, I represented the seller in the transaction.”

“Maybe her husband did it,” Annabelle suggested. “I mean, if she was married. So many murders are domestic in nature. It’s awful!”

“There was a husband, can’t recall his name offhand. But he was gone by the time she was killed, I believe. Leastways, the police never named him a suspect. I always thought some stranger did it. Tammy kept to herself. I don’t even think she had any children. But that was years ago, and, like I said, this is actually a very safe area. Now, would you like to see the inside of this house?”

After a quick tour of the house they took the woman’s card and said they would get back to her.

As they drove off Annabelle pulled out a brown scarf from her pocket and rubbed it gently.

“What’s that?”

“A scarf my mother gave to me. It was for my birthday. It’s the last thing she ever had a chance to give me.”

“I’m sorry, Annabelle.”

She sat back against the car seat and closed her eyes. “I couldn’t even attend the funeral. I’d heard rumors in the con world that Bagger was involved and that my father had gotten off scot-free as usual. I knew Bagger would be watching. I’ve never even been to her grave.”

“And you think your father is dead?”

“Let’s put it this way, if my dream came true he is.”

As they were driving down the street, the light changed and Stone stopped. Annabelle idly glanced at a tall, thin man coming out of a bar and her face froze.

Stone noted her look and said, “What is it?”

“The man coming out of that bar across the street,” she whispered as she stared.

Stone glanced over. “What about him?”

“He’s my father, Paddy Conroy.”

CHAPTER 36

“PULL OVER, OLIVER,” Annabelle barked.

“What are you going to do?”

“Right now, I’m trying hard not to throw up.” She rested her chin on the dashboard, but kept her gaze on her father. “God, it’s like I’m seeing a damn ghost.”

She slowly sat back up and wiped clammy sweat from her forehead.

“What do you want to do?” he asked.

“I don’t know. My mind pretty much just shut down on me.”

“Okay, I’ll make the call. We follow him. It might lead to something useful.”

“That bastard let my mother die.” Stone could see that Annabelle was clenching the armrest so tightly her fingers were turning white. He put a calming hand on her shoulder.

“I understand, Annabelle. I understand completely about how and why people get to live and die all for the wrong reasons. And I know it’s been a shock finding out that your father is, one, alive, and, two, right here. But we need to keep our wits about us. I can’t believe it’s a coincidence he’s here. Can you?”

She shook her head.

“So we’re going to follow him,” he said again. “You up for that? Or do you want me to drop you off? I can do it alone.”

“No, I want in on this,” she said sharply. Then she added more calmly, “I’m good now, Oliver. Thanks.” She gave his hand a grateful squeeze.

They both looked out the window where Paddy Conroy was climbing into a beat-up pickup truck parked on the street.

The drive only took ten minutes. By that time they were well away from the small downtown area and out in the country. When the truck turned in through the wrought-iron gates, Annabelle snatched a breath.

Stone waited a few moments and then pulled through the gates into Mt. Holy Cemetery. A few minutes later they were out of the car and slipping stealthily toward a stand of trees. They watched from this concealment while Paddy shuffled along until he came to a flat grave marker on the ground. He produced a few flowers from inside his shabby overcoat, knelt down and placed them on the sunken earth.

He took off his hat, revealing thick white hair, put his hands together and seemed to be praying. Once they heard a long, loud moan come from the man. He reached in his pocket, pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his face.

“Your mother’s grave?” Stone asked.

She nodded curtly. “Like I said, I’ve never been to see it, but I looked up the location.”

“He seems to be grieving.”

“He’s only doing it to make him feel better about what he did, the asshole. He’s never changed.”

“People do change,” Stone said.

“Not him, not ever.” She grabbed him as he stepped past her. “Oliver, what are you doing?”

“Putting your theory to the test.”

Before she could stop him he walked out into the open and headed toward Paddy. Stone slowed and seemed