Murphy's Law

“You realize,” Tom replied, and grinned conspiratorially, “that he never came back for the loot.”

“It's not—Oh, never mind.” She drank the last sip of her coffee. It was cold, but she didn't care. At work she was used to pouring a cup, then getting so involved in a case she forgot about it, only to drink it stone cold hours later. “And no, Garrett hasn't come to get the duffel bag yet. In fact, I haven't heard from him at all.”

“Uh-huh.” Her brother's tone was edged with good-humored accusation as he nodded to her empty mug. “More?”

“Yes, please.” Murphy handed him her cup. “And what was that ‘uh-huh’ for?”

Tom stood and crossed to his sister's counter, where he poured them each a fresh mug of coffee from the automatic-drip coffee maker he'd given her last year for Christmas. The kitchen was small; in only two steps you could get from table to counter, then back. If not for the sunshine yellow walls, making the room feel bigger than it actually was, it would have been claustrophobic.

He set one mug in front of his sister—she mumbled her thanks—then reseated himself across the table from her. “We both know it isn't quite true that you've had no contact with him, Murph.”

Moonshine purred a protest when her fingernails hesitated in mid-scratch. “I called the hospital once to see how Garrett was doing. So what? I was concerned. Besides, it doesn't count.”

“It doesn't?”

“Of course not. It would only count if I talked to him, which I didn't.”

“I hate to be the one to point this out, but you phoned the hospital more than once.”

“Yes, well, maybe I called twice.” She shrugged vaguely.

“Twice a day,” Tom clarified, and winked when she blushed to the roots of her curly brown hair. “How's he doing?”

With her free hand, Murphy toyed with the warm ceramic handle of her coffee mug. “They released him last week.”

“Your long distance bill is eternally grateful, I'm sure.”

Tucking Moonshine under one arm, she stood and, leaning over the table, swatted her brother's lean shoulder. “That'll be enough out of you, Thomas Maxwell McKenna. I'm getting tired of being teased about—”

The shrill ring of the telephone cut her tirade short.

“Saved by the bell,” Tom quipped, and grinned at the glare his sister sent him as she deposited the cat on the floor and went to answer the phone. He resigned himself to passing the time until Murphy returned by cleaning her out of cashews.

The white plastic receiver felt cool against Murphy's palm as she picked it up. An insistent pressure against her shin told her that Moonshine hadn't had his share of attention; the big cat was rubbing against her shin, purring loudly. “Hello?”

“Murphy McKenna, please.”

“Speaking,” she answered neutrally. A saleswoman? she wondered, then instantly decided it wasn't. The feminine voice on the other end sounded too relaxed and chatty for the speaker to be heading into a pitch about insurance or long distance rates. Then again, she'd been wrong before.

“Hi, Murphy, my name is Elise Thayer,” the woman said, and Murphy felt her heart skip a beat, then throb vibrantly to life. “You don't know me, but—”

“I know of you,” Murphy inserted, then swore inwardly to hear her voice crack with a surge of excitement. “How did you get my number?”

“My brother's a cop. Getting your phone number was a cinch. Just needed to wait until Garrett fell asleep. How do you know of me…?”

“Garrett told me. He talked about his sisters while we were stuck in my car.”

“Really?” Elise Thayer laughed. “Sorry, Murphy, I'm not laughing at you. Honest. I'm just surprised. Garrett doesn't usually talk about his family with strangers. And speaking of my brother…”

Murphy's fingers flexed around the receiver. As though sensing her sudden agitation, Moonshine stopped rubbing against her shin and glanced curiously up at her. “Is Garrett all right? Is something wrong?”

“Relax, he's fine. Whoops, I probably should have said that first. Sorry again. As for something being wrong…that all depends on you.”

Murphy felt a surge of relief. It was followed swiftly by an equally strong surge of suspicion. “Me? Why?”

“I'm not exactly sure how to say this. I guess blunt would be best, huh?”

“Yes, blunt would be good.” The soles of her sneakers squeaked on the hardwood floor as Murphy turned on her heel and lowered herself into the wicker chair next to the table on which the phone sat. She had a feeling she'd want to be sitting when she heard why Elise Thayer had called. Her concentration focused on that, she barely noticed when Moonshine vaulted onto her lap.