'Are you any closer to catching the bomber guy?' she asked, kicking off her flats. 'Because the people in my class are completely bonkers. Half of them didn't even show up for tonight's test. They told the professor they're too afraid to ride the trains.'
'Smart kids,' I said. 'You might want to follow their example. If the color code thing were still in place, we'd be looking at orange, dark orange.'
'I'm a big girl, Mike. I know my way around the city now. I can take care of me own self.'
'I know that, but if something happens to you, who's going to take care of me?' I said.
We swung back and forth for a while, talking and having more wine. She told me some funny stories about her summer vacations with her big family when she was a kid back in Tipperary. Even after the day I'd had, I was actually starting to relax.
I don't remember who started kissing whom. For a while we held each other, just listening to the sound of the surf two blocks away. The waves were incredibly choppy and loud, making a relentless pounding noise. The first hurricane of the season was heading up the East Coast from Florida, I remembered I'd heard on the radio.
That's when I remembered something else. The hurricane wasn't the only thing coming up to New York.
Why had I told Emily Parker to come again? I thought as Mary Catherine undid the buttons on my shirt. Because she was a competent law enforcement expert? Even I knew that was bull. Emily was cute, and I liked her. But Mary Catherine was cute as well, and I liked her, too.
One thing led to another, and after a bit I found my hand under the back of Mary's shirt. Mary suddenly pulled back and sat up.
'Talk about dark orange,' she said.
She was right. We both knew we were on the threshold of something either wonderful or terrible. Neither one of us knew what to do about it.
'What now?' Mary said.
'You tell me.'
'We're so Irish, Michael.'
'Well, technically, I'm Irish-American,' I said, pulling her in again and kissing her sweet hot mouth.
'Eh-hem,' someone yelled.
I don't know who jumped higher, me or Mary. There was a jangle of chains as we almost ripped the porch swing off its moorings.
Seamus came up the steps, a smile from ear to ear.
'And how was your class tonight, Mary Catherine? Your art class that is, if you don't mind me askin'?'
'Oh, fine, Seamus. Look at the time. So much to do tomorrow. Good night,' Mary said, off like a shot into the house, absolutely abandoning me.
Seamus looked at my completely open shirt with disdain.
'Michael Sean Aloysius Bennett. What in the name of the good Lord do you think you're doing? And don't be telling me you've been catching some rays,' Seamus said.
'I'm… going to bed, Father,' I said, hitting the screen door at mach two. 'It's been a long day. G'night.'
Chapter 36
I woke up extra early for work the next morning.
And not just to beat the traffic this time. A stealthy exit after last night's questionable tonsil-hockey session with MC on the porch seemed just the thing.
In addition to probably breaking several employer sexual harassment laws, I didn't know where to start in sorting through my conflicting feelings. I really had no idea at all what to say to Mary in the light of day. I definitely didn't want to face another inquisition from Seamus.
Red wine always gets me into trouble. No, wait, that's my big mouth.
As I tiptoed out of Dodge, holding my shoes, I noticed a strange bluish light coming from the girls' room. I knew I should keep on going and leave the culprits to their own mischievous devices, but the cop in me couldn't resist a righteous bust.
I retraced my toe tips back into their room. The light was coming from under a suspiciously lumpy blanket on the bed in the corner. There was a lot of suspicious excited whispering going on as well.
'What's this?' I said, whipping away the blanket like a magician.
What I saw wasn't a rabbit, though it was still quite cute.
'AHHHHH!' Chrissy and Shawna screamed in unison, lying on their bellies in front of a laptop computer.
'A computer?' I said, clapping a hand against my head in mock outrage. 'You smuggled in a computer on our vacation? Don't tell me that's Phineas and Ferb on that screen. No electronic toys, remember? No video games. Sound familiar?'
'It was Ricky,' Shawna said, pointing toward the boys' room frantically.
'It's true. It's Ricky's. We're just borrowing it,' Chrissy said.
'What's going on?' Mary Catherine whispered suddenly there, yawning in the doorway.
Uh-oh. I knew I should have gotten out while I could. The girls weren't the only ones who were busted.
'We're sorry, Mary,' Chrissy said.
'Yes. We're so sorry,' Shawna added quickly. 'So sorry that Ricky brought a computer when he wasn't supposed to.'
'We'll deal with this later,' Mary said as she confiscated the computer and tucked the girls back in.
'You're up early,' she said, glancing suspiciously at the shoes in my hand as we left the room. 'Come to the kitchen. I'll make you coffee before you go.'
'I'd love to, but I don't have time. Early briefing,' I said.
'It's five-thirty,' Mary Catherine said, peering at me.
'Duty calls,' I said with a hopefully convincing smile and a wave as I headed toward the front door.
I stopped as I came out onto the porch. Even in the predawn murk, I could see it. Somebody had spray- painted the wall behind the porch swing.
GO HOME STUPID BASTERDS!
I stood there holding my hungover head in my hands. The sons of bitches had come onto my porch in the middle of the night? I guess my scare tactic over at the Flaherty compound hadn't gone as well as I'd hoped. This was really getting nuts now.
'Seems like Flaherty gets his spelling lessons from Quentin Tarantino,' Seamus said in his bathrobe from the doorway.
I shook my head. Like it or not, I really did need to get to work. I couldn't stay to sort through this latest outrage. I glanced at Seamus.
'Seamus, I'm swamped at work. Do you think you could take care of this for me before the kids see it?'
Seamus gave me a hard glare.
'Oh, don't worry, Michael Sean Aloysius. I'll be cleaning up all the latest shenanigans going on around here before the kids see them,' Seamus said.
I winced at his emphasis on the word. I guess I was getting a fresh, un-asked-for heaping of Catholic guilt to go this morning.
'And I'll tell you another thing, jail time or no jail time, I'll blast the first Flaherty I see back to Hell's Kitchen and straight down to Hell, where they belong,' he called as I walked down the steps. 'This old codger will make Clint Eastwood from Gran Torino seem like Santa Claus.'
'You already do,' I whispered as I hurried for the safety of my police car.
